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PROSE    WEITINGS 


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BATAKD     TATLOE. 


REVISED   EDITION. 


AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD, 

SECOND    SERIES. 


NEW  YORK: 
G.    P.    PUTNAM,    532    BROADWAY. 

1862. 


1  KAU  WAILt  ar  AMAJM.y  HA.VIIM*;. 


SECOND  SERIES. 

BAYxVRT)  TAYL(J.a. 


Ci 


'J'foriiiM 


NEW  YORK;G.t'.  PUlTST^^l 


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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2007  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosQft  Corporation 


http://www..archive.org/details/athomeabroadsketOOtayliala 


AT  HOME  AID  ABEOAD : 


A   SKETCH-BOOK 


OF 


LIFE,   SCENERY  AND   MEN. 


BAYAED    TAYLOR. 


%vm^  ^tms. 


NEW    YORK:      , 
G.    P.    PUTNAM,    532     BROADWAY. 
1862. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1862,  by 

G.    P.     P  U  T  N  A  M , 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 
District  ol  New  York. 


B.   GBAIOUKAD, 
PHiiler,  Stereotyper,  nnd  Klectrotyper, 

Caiton  ]3uirt)iiig, 

81, 83,  and  85  Cmitrt  Street. 


CONTENTS. 


Or 


I.— A  COUNTKY  HOME  IN  AMERICA. 

PAGE 

1. — HOW  I  CAME  TO  BUT  A  FARM, 1 

2.— "free  SOIL," 10 

3. THE  BUILDING  OF   A  HOUSE, 19 

4. — RESULTS  AND  SUGGESTIONS, 28 


II.— 2:ra;W  PICTURES  FROM  CALIFORNIA 

1. — SAN  FRANCISCO,  AFTER  TEN  YEARS, 

2. THE  VALLET  OF  SAN  JOS^ 

3. — A  JOURNEY  TO  THE  GEYSERS,   . 

4. — A  STRUGGLE  TO  KEEP  AN   APPOINTMENT, 

5. — THE  SACRAMENTO  VALLEY, 

6. — THE  NORTHERN  MINES,     . 

7. — TRAVELLING  IN  THE  SIERRA  NEVADA, 

8. THE  SOUTHERN  MINES,      . 

9. THE  BIG  TREES  OF  CALAVERAS, 

10. CALIFORNIA,   AS  A  HOME, 


37 
50 

65 
86 
105 
125 
144 
159 
176 
191 


III.— A  HOME  IN  THE  THURINGIAN  FOREST. 


1. — TAKING  POSSESSION, 

2. HOW  WE  SPENT  THE   FOURTH, 

3. REINHARDTSBRUNN,  AND  ITS  LEGEND, 

4. — THE  FIRST  GERMAN  SHOOTING-MATCH, 


203 
210 
218 
225 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


5. — THE  SAME,  CONTrNTJED,    . 
6. — ERNEST  OF  C0BUR6, 
7.— STORKS  AND  AUTHORS,     . 

8. "  THE  VISION  OF  SUDDEN  DEATH," 

9. — THE  FOREST  AND  ITS  LEGENDS, 
10. DAY-DREAMS — DEPARTURE,      . 


PASB 

236 
243 
253 
261 
270 
279 


IV.— A    WALK    THROUGH     THE     FRANCONIAN 

SWITZERLAND.           . 286 

v.— TRAVELS  AT  HOME. 

1. THE  HUDSON  AND  THE  CATSKILLS, 319 

2. BERKSHIRE  AND  BOSTON, 330 

3. THE  SACO  VALLEY, 341 

4. — THE  ASCENT  OF  MOUNT  WASHINGTON,             ....  355 

5. MONTREAL  AND  QUEBEC, .  366 

6. — UP  THE  SAGUENAY, 374 

7. — NIAGARA,  AND  ITS  VISITORS, 388 

8. TRENTON  FALLS  AND  SARATOGA, 396 

VI.— PERSONAL  SKETCHES. 

1. — THE  LESLIES, 404 

2. THE  BROWNINGS, 410 

3. — THE  WRITERS  FOR  "  PUNCH," 416 

4. — LEIGH  HUNT, 421 

5. — HANS  CHRISTIAN  ANDERSEN, 426 


Vn.— THE  CONFESSIONS  OF  A  MEDIUM. 


433 


VIIL— THE  HAUNTED  SHANTY. 


473 


AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

SECOifD   SEKIES 


I. 

A  COUNTRY  HOME  IN  AMERICA. 


1. — How  I  Came  to  Buy  a  Farm. 

Im  the  first  place,  it  runs  in  the  blood.  If  there  is  any 
law  I  believe  in,  it  is  that  of  the  hereditary  transmission  of 
traits,  qualities,  capacities,  and  passions.  My  father  is  a 
farmer ;  my  grandfixther  was,  and  his  fatlier  before  him,  and 
his,  and  his  again,  to  the  seventh  ancestor,  who  came  over  in 
one  of  William  Penn's  vessels,  and  immediately  set  about 
reducing  the  supei"fluous  sylvanism  of  that  Apostle's  Sylva- 
nia.  If  I  could  brush  away  the  clouds  which  hang  about 
this  portion  of  the  genealogical  tree,  I  have  no  doubt  but 
that  I  should  find  its  trunk  striking  through  cottages  or 
country  halls  for  some  centuries  further  ;  and  that  "  Roger, 
{ob.  1614,)  the  son  of  Thomas,  the  son  of  Roger,"  who 
wore  the  judicial  ermine  upon  his  escutcheon,  had  his 
favorite  country-house  in  the  neighborhood  of  London. 

1 


2  AT   HOME   AifD   ABROAD. 

The  child  that  has  tumbled  into  a  newly-ploughed  furrow 
never  forgets  the  smell  of  the  fresh  eaith.  He  thrives  upon 
it  as  the  butcher's  boy  thrives  upon  the  steam  of  blood, 
but  a  healthier  apple-red  comes  into  his  cheeks,  and  his 
growing  muscle  is  subdued  in  more  innocent  pastimes. 
Almost  my  first  recollection  is  that  of  a  swamp,  into  which 
I  went  bare-legged  at  morning,  and  out  of  which  I  came, 
when  driven  by  hunger,  with  long  stockings  of  black  mud, 
and  a  mask  of  the  same.  If  the  child  was  missed  from  the 
house,  the  first  thing  that  suggested  itself,  was  to  climb 
upon  a  mound  which  overlooked  the  swamp.  Somewhere, 
among  the  tufts  of  the  rushes  and  the  bladed  leaves  of  the 
calamus,  a  little  brown  ball  was  sure  to  be  seen  moving, 
now  dipping  out  of  sight,  now  rising  again,  like  a  bit  of 
drift  on  the  rippling  green.  It  was  my  head.  The  trea- 
sures I  there  collected  were  black  terrapins,  with  orange 
spots,  baby  frogs  the  size  of  a  chestnut,  thrush's  eggs,  and 
stems  of  purple  phlox. 

I  cannot  say  that  my  boyish  experience  of  farmwork  was 
altogether  attractive.  I  had  a  constitutional  horror  of 
dirty  hands,  and  my  first  employments — picking  stones  and 
weeding  corn — were  rather  a  torture  to  this  superfine  taste. 
But  almost  every  field  had  its  walnut  tree,  and  many  of  the 
last  year's  nuts  retained  their  flavor  in  the  spring  ;  melons 
were  planted  among  the  corn,  and  the  meadow  which  lay 
between  never  exhausted  its  store  of  wonders.  Besides, 
there  were  eggs  to  hide  at  Easter ;  cherries  and  strawberries 
in  May ;  fruits  all  summer,  fishing-parties  by  torch-light ; 
lobelia  and  sumac  to  be  gathered,  dried,  and  sold  for 
l)Ocket-money ;  and  in  the  full  chestnuts,  persimmons,  wild 


A   COUNTRY   HOME   IN   AMERICA.  8 

grapes,  cider,  and  the  grand  butchering  after  frost  came — 
so  that  all  the  pleasures  I  knew  were  those  incidental  to  a 
farmer's  life.  The  books  I  read  came  from  the  village 
library,  and  the  task  of  helping  to  "  fodder''  on  the  dark 
Avinter  evenings  was  lightened  by  the  anticipation  of  sitting 
down  to  Gibbon's  Rome,  or  Thaddeus  of  Warsaw,  after- 
wards. To  be  sure,  I  sometimes  envied  the  store-keeper's 
boy,  whom  I  had  once  seen  shovelling  sugar  out  of  a  hogs- 
head, and  who  now  and  then  stealthily  dipped  his  hand 
into  the  raisin-box  ;  but  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  any  child 
to  be  perfectly  satisfied  with  his  lot. 

A  life  of  three  years  in  a  small  country  town  effectually 
cured  me  of  all  such  folly.  When  I  returned  to  the  home- 
stead as  a  youth,  I  first  felt  the  delight  and  the  refreshment 
of  labor  in  the  open  air.  I  was  then  able  to  take  the  plough- 
handle,  and  I  still  remember  the  pride  I  felt  when  my 
furrows  were  pronounced  even  and  well  turned.  Although 
it  was  already  decided  that  I  should  not  make  farming  the 
business  of  my  life,  I  thrust  into  my  plans  a  slender  wedge 
of  hope  that  I  might  one  day  own  a  bit  of  ground,  for  the 
luxury  of  having,  if  not  the  profit  of  cultivating  it.  The 
aroma  of  the  sweet  soil  had  tinctured  my  blood ;  the  black 
mud  of  the  swamp  still  stuck  to  my  feet. 

It  happened  that,  adjoining  my  father's  property,  there 
was  an  old  farm,  which  was  fast  relapsing  into  a  state  of 
nature.  Thirty  or  forty  years  had  passed  since  the  plough 
had  touched  any  part  of  it.  The  owner,  who  lived  upon 
another  estate  at  a  little  distance,  had  always  declined  to 
sell — perhaps  for  the  reason  that  no  purchaser  could  be 
found  to  offer  an  encouraging  price.     Left  thus  to  herself, 


4  AT   HOME   AND   ABBOAD. 

Kature  played  all  sorts  of  wild  and  picturesque  pranks  with 
the  property.  Two  heaps  of  stones  were  all  that  marked 
the  site  ©f  the  house  and  barn  ;  half  a  dozen  ragged  plum 
and  peach  trees  hovered  around  the  outskirts  of  the 
vanished  garden,  the  melancholy  survivors  of  all  its  bloom 
and  fruitage  ;  and  a  mixture  of  tall  sedge-grass,  sumacs, 
and  blackberry  bushes  covered  the  fields.  The  hawthorn 
hedges  which  lined  the  lane  had  disappeared,  but  some 
clumps  of  privet  still  held  their  ground,  and  the  wild  grape 
and  scarlet-berried  celastrus  clambered  all  over  the  tall 
sassafras  and  tulip-trees. 

Along  the  road  which  bounded  this  farm  on  the  east 
stood  a  grove  of  magnificent  oaks,  more  than  a  himdred 
feet  in  height.  Standing  too  closely  to  permit  of  lateral 
boughs  near  the  earth,  their  trunks  rose  like  a  crowded 
colonnade  clear  against  the  sky,  and  the  sunset,  burning 
through,  took  more  gorgeous  hues  of  orange  and  angry 
crimson.  Knowing  that  if  the  farm  were  sold,  those  glo- 
rious trees  would  probably  be  the  first  to  fall,  and  that  the 
sunset  would  thereby  for  me  lose  half  its  splendor,  I  gra- 
dually came  to  contemplate  them  with  the  interest  which 
an  uncertain,  suspended  fiite  inspires.  At  the  foot  of  the 
oaks,  on  the  border  of  the  field,  there  was  an  old,  gnarled 
mother-pine,  surrounded  by  her  brood  of  young  ones,  who, 
always  springing  up  in  the  same  direction,  from  the  fact 
that  the  seeds  were  scattered  by  the  nor'west  winds, 
seemed  to  be  running  oif  down  the  slope,  as  if  full-fledged 
and  eager  to  make  their  way  into  the  world.  The  old 
pine  had  an  awful  interest  to  me  as  a  boy.  More  than 
once  huge  black  snakes  had  been  seen  hanging  from  its 


A   COUNTRY   HOME   IX  AMERICA.  5 

boughs,  and  the  farm-hands  would  tell  mysterious  stories 
of  an  old  mother-serpent,  as  long  as  a  fence-rail  and  as 
swift  as  a  horse.  In  fact,  my  brother  and  I,  on  our  way  to 
the  peach-trees,  which  still  produced  some  bitter-flavored 
fruit,  had  more  than  once  seen  snakes  in  our  path.  On  a 
certain  occasion,  as  my  memory  runs,  I  chased  the  snake, 
while  he  ran  away.  His  story  is,  that  he  chased  and  I  ran 
— and  the  question  remains  unsettled  to  this  day. 

In  another  wood  of  chestnuts,  beyond  the  field,  the  finest 
yellow  violets  were  to  be  found ;  the  azaleas  blossomed  in 
their  season,  and  the  ivory  Indian-pipe  sprang  up  under  the 
beech-trees.  Sometimes  we  extended  our  rambles  to  the 
end  of  the  farm,  and  looked  down  into  the  secluded  dells 
beyond  the  ridge  which  it  covered :  such  glimpses  were 
like  the  discovery  of  unknown  lands.  How  far  ofi"  the 
other  people  lived  !  How  strange  it  must  be  to  dwell  con- 
tinually down  in  that  hollow,  with  no  other  house  in  sight! 
But  when  I  build  a  house,  I  thought,  I  shall  buUd  it  up  on 
the  ridge,  with  a  high  steeple,  from  the  toj)  of  which  I  can 
see  far  and  wide.  That  deserted  farm  was  to  me  like  the 
Ejuxria  of  Hartley  Coleridge,  but  my  day-dreams  were  far 
less  ambitious  than  his.  If  I  had  known  then  what  I 
learned  long  afterwards,  that  a  tradition  of  buried  treasure 
still  lingers  about  the  old  garden,  I  should  no  doubt  have 
dug  up  millions  in  my  imagination,  roofed  my  house  with 
gold,  and  made  the  steeple  thereof  five  hundred  feet  high. 

At  last  came  the  launch  into  the  world — a  slide,  a  plunge, 
a  shudder,  and  the  ship  rides  the  waves.  Absence,  occu- 
pation, travel,  substituted  realities  for  dreams,  and  the 
farm,  if  not  forgotten,  became  a  very  subordinate  object  in 


6  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

the  CAtalogue  of  things  to  be  attained.  Whenever  I  visited 
the  homestead,  however,  I  saw  the  sunset  through  its 
grating  of  forest,  and  remembered  the  fate  that  still  hung 
suspended  over  the  trees.  Fifty  years  of  neglect  had  given 
the  place  a  bad  name  among  the  farmers,  while  Nature,  as 
if  delighted  to  recover  possession,  had  gone  on  adorning  it 
in  her  own  wild  and  matchless  way.  I  looked  on  the  spot 
with  an  instructed  eye,  and  sighed,  as  I  counted  up  my 
scanty  earnings,  at  the  reflection  that  years  must  elapse 
before  I  could  venture  to  think  of  possessing  it.  My  wish, 
nevertheless,  was  heard  and  remembered. 

In  July,  1853, 1  was  on  the  island  of  Loo-Choo.  Return- 
ing to  the  flag-ship  of  the  squadron  one  evening,  after  a 
long  ti-amp  over  the  hills  to  the  south  of  Napa-Kiang,  in  a 
successful  search  for  the  ruins  of  the  ancient  fortress  of 
Tima-gusku,  I  was  summoned  by  the  oflicer  of  the  deck  to 
receive  a  package  which  had  been  sent  on  board  from  one 
of  the  other  vessels.  Letters  from  home,  after  an  interval 
of  six  months  without  news !  I  immediately  asked  per- 
mission to  burn  a  lamp  on  the  orlop-deck,  and  read  until 
midnight,  forgetting  the  tramp  of  the  sentry  and  the  sounds 
of  the  sleepers  in  their  hammocks  around  me.  Openhig 
letter  after  letter,  and  devouring,  piece  by  piece,  the  ban- 
quet of  news  they  contained,  the  most  startling,  as  well  as 
the  most  important  communication,  was — the  old  farm  was 
mine !  Its  former  owner  had  died,  the  property  Avas  sold, 
and  had  been  purchased  in  my  name.  I  went  on  deck. 
The  midwatch  had  just  relieved  the  first:  the  night  was 
pitch  dark,  only  now  and  then  a  wave  burst  in  a  flash  of 
white  pliosi)horic  fire.     But,  as  I  looked  westward  over  the 


A    COUNTRY   HOME   IN    AMERICA.  7 

Stern-rail,  I  saw  the  giant  oaks,  rising  black  against  the 
crimson  sunset,  and  knew  that  they  were  waiting  for  me — 
that  I  should  surely  see  them  again. 

Five  months  afterwards  I  approached  home,  after  an 
absence  of  nearly  two  years  and  a  half.  It  was  Christmas 
Eve — a  clear,  sharp  winter  night.  The  bare  earth  was  hard 
frozen  ;  the  sun  was  down,  a  quarter-moon  shone  overhead, 
and  the  keen  nor' west  wind  blew  in  my  face.  I  had 
known  no  winter  for  three  years,  and  the  bracing  stimulus 
of  the  cold  was  almost  as  novel  as  it  was  refreshing.  Pre- 
sently I  recognized  the  boundaries  of  my  property — yes,  I 
actually  possessed  a  portion  of  the  earth's  surface !  After 
all,  I  thought,  possession — at  least  so  far  as  Nature  is  con- 
cerned— means  simply  protection.  This  moonlit  wilderness 
is  not  more  beautiful  to  my  eyes  than  it  was  before  ;  but  I 
have  the  right,  secured  by  legal  documents,  to  preserve  its 
beauty.  I  need  not  implore  the  woodman  to  spare  those 
trees :  I'll  spare  them  myself  This  is  the  only  difference 
in  my  relation  to  the  property.  So  long  as  any  portion  of 
the  landscape  which  pleases  me  is  not'  disturbed,  I  possess 
it  quite  as  much  as  this. 

During  these  reflections,  I  had  reached  the  foot  of  the 
ridge.  A  giant  tulip-tree,  the  honey  of  whose  blossoms  I 
had  many  a  time  pilfered  in  boyhood^  crowned  the  slope, 
drooping  its  long  boughs  as  if  weary  of  stretching  them  in 
welcome.  Behind  it  stood  the  oaks,  side  by  side,  far  along 
the  road.  As  I  reached  the  first  tree  the  wind,  which 
had  fallen,  gradually  swelled,  humming  through  the  bare 
branches  until  a  deep  organ-bass  filled  the  wood.  It  was 
a  hoarse,  yet  grateful  chorus  of  welcome — inarticulate,  yet 


8  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

intelligible.  "  Welcome,  welcome  home  !"  went  booming 
through  the  trees,  "  welcome,  our  master  and  our  pre- 
server !  See,  with  all  the  voice  we  can  catch  from  the 
winds,  we  utter  our  joy !  For  now  there  is  an  end  to  fear 
and  suspense :  he  who  knows  us  and  loves  us  spreads  over 
us  the  shelter  of  his  care.  Long  shall  we  flourish  on  the 
hill :  long  shall  our  leaves  expand  in  the  upper  air :  long 
shall  our  grateful  shadows  cover  his  path.  We  shall  hail 
his  coming  from  afar :  our  topmost  boughs  will  spy  him 
across  the  valleys,  and  whisper  it  to  the  fraternal  woods. 
We  are  old ;  we  never  change  ;  we  shall  never  cease  to 
remember  and  to  welcome  our  master !" 

So  the  trees  were  first  to  recognize  me.  Listening  to 
their  deep,  resonant  voices,  (which  I  would  not  have 
exchanged  for  the  dry  rattle  of  a  hundred-league-long 
forest  of  tropical  palms,)  I  was  conscious  of  a  new  sensation, 
which  nothing  but  the  actual  sight  of  my  own  property 
could  have  suggested.  I  felt  like  a  tired  swimmer  when  he 
first  touches  ground — ^like  a  rudderless  ship,  drifting  at  the 
will  of  the  storm,  when  her  best  bower  takes  firm  hold — 
like  a  winged  seed,  when,  after  floating  from  bush  to  bush, 
and  from  field  to  field,  it  drops  at  last  upon  a  handful  of 
mellow  soil,  and  strikes  root.  My  life  had  now  a  point 
(Tapiyui^  and,  standing  upon  these  acres  of  real  estate,  it 
seemed  an  easier  thing  to  move  the  world.  A  million  in 
bank  stock  or  railroad  bonds  could  not  have  given  me  the 
same  positive,  tangible  sense  oi  property. 

When  I  walked  over  my  fields  (yes — actually  my  fields!) 
the  next  day,  this  sensation  returned  in  an  almost  ridiculous 
excess.     "  You  will  of  course  cut  down  that  ugly  old  tree," 


A    COUNTRY    HOME   IN   AMERICA.  9 

said  some  one.  It  impressed  me  very  much  as  if  I  had  been 
told  :  "  That  chapter  in  your  book  is  inferior  to  the  others 
— tear  it  out !"  or,  "  Your  little  finger  is  crooked :  have  it 
amputated  !"  Why,  even  the  sedge-grass  and  sumacs — how 
beautiful  they  were !  Could  I  ever  make  up  ray  mind  to 
destroy  them  ?  As  for  the  cedars,  the  hawthorn,  the  privet, 
the  tangled  masses  of  climbing  smilax — no,  by  the  bones  of 
Belshazzar,  they  shall  stand  !  "This  field  will  not  be  worth 
much  for  grain."  Well — what  if  it  isn't  ?  "  Everything  is 
wild  and  neglected — it  wants  clearing,  sadly."  Everything 
is  grand,  beautiful,  charming :  there  is  nothing  like  it !  So 
ran  the  course  of  remark  and  counter-remark.  I  did  not 
sufier  my  equanimity  to  be  disturbed  ;  was  I  not  sole 
owner,  appellator,  and  disposer  of  all  ?  Nor  did  the  trees 
ai3pear  to  be  sensible  of  the  least  fear.  They  leaned  their 
heads  against  one  another  in  a  sort  of  happy,  complacent 
calm,  as  if  whispering  :  "  It's  all  right :  let  us  enjoy  the  sun- 
shine ;  he'll  take  cai*e  of  us !" 

Yes,  one  cannot  properly  be  considered  as  a  member  of 
the  Brotherhood  of  Man,  an  inhabitant  of  the  Earth,  until 
he  possesses  a  portion  of  her  surface.  As  the  sailors  say,  he 
stays,  he  don't  actually  live.  The  Agrarians,  Communists, 
Socialistic  Levellers,  and  Flats  of  all  kinds,  are  replenished 
from  the  ranks  of  the  non-owners  of  real  estate.  Banks 
break ;  stocks  and  scrips  of  all  kinds  go  up  and  down  on 
the  financial  see-saw ;  but  a  fee-simple  of  solid  earth  is 
1^^  There  !  You  see  it,  you  feel  it,  you  walk  over  it.  It  is 
yours,  and  your  children's,  and  their  progeny's  (unless  mort- 
gaged and  sold  through  foreclosure)  until  the  Millennium. 

And  this  is  how  I  came  to  buy  a  Farm. 
1» 


10  at  home  and  abkoad. 

2.— "Fkee   Soil." 

"  For  and  in  consideration  of  the  sum  of dollars, 

good  and  lawful  money  of  the  state  of ,  I,  the  aforesaid 

A.  B.,  do  hereby  convey  and  transfer  to  the  aforesaid  C.  D., 
etc..  etc.,  his  heirs,  executors,  or  assignees,  all  my  right, 
title,  and  interest  in  the  aforesaid  messuage  and  tract  of 
land,"  etc.,  etc.  The  signatures,  duly  witnessed,  the  decla- 
ration of  the  wife,  alone  in. the  presence  of  the  magistrate, 
that  she  had  signed  the  deed  of  her  own  free  will,  without 
compulsion  on  the  part  of  her  husband,  even  the  note  of 

registry  in  the  Registrar's  office  of coimty,  were  all 

there.  The  stiff  phrases  and  redundant  tautology  of  the 
law,  once  so  absurd,  now  seemed  highly  exact  and  appro- 
priate. Ought  not  the  casket  which  holds  my  property  to 
be  so  thoroughly  wrapped  and  cemented,  that  not  a  rat 
shall  find  a  hole  to  creep  through  ?  Certes,  fifty  folios  were 
not  too  much  to  secure  my  right  of  possession !  Let  all  the 
synonyms  in  the  English  language  be  exhausted — so  much 
the  better,  Mrs.  Browning  tells  somebody  to  say  to  her: 
" '  Love  me,  love  me,  love  me,'  in  silver  iteration,"  and  what 
is  true  of  one  kind  of  love,  is  true  of  all  kinds.  If  the  deed 
had  simply  stated  that  C.  D.  had  "  bought"  the  land  of  A.  B., 
I  do  not  think  I  should  have  been  satisfied.  But  this  luscious 
lingering  upon  the  circumstance,  ringing  it  over  and  ovei 
upon  all  words  which  had  a  remote  approach  to  the  mean- 
ing— conveyed,  transferred,  made  over,  disposed  of,  invested 
with,  deeded  to,  granted,  given,  empowered — wliat  fulness 
and  riclmCss,  what  vitality  and  certainty  it  gave  to  the  act! 


A    COUNTRY    HOME   IX    AMERICA.  11 

I  repeat  it,  the  only  positive  pi'operty  is  real  estate.  Not 
only  in  imagination,  but  also  in  fact.  You  may  hold  in  your 
hand  a  Imndred  thousand  dollars  in  bank-notes ;  a  sudden 
puff  of  wind  surprises  you,  and  whisk  !  away  they  go.  Or 
you  may  foil  into  the  water,  and  they  are  reduced  to  a 
worthless  pul]) — or  the  house  burns  down,  and  your  notes, 
and  jewels,  and  mortgages,  are  consumed  with  it.  But  who 
ever  heard  of  an  estate  being  blown  away,  or  burned  up,  or 
carried  off  by  an  absconding  defaulter?  Did  any  man  ever 
see  a  counterfeit  farm?  The  inarket  value  of  land  may 
fluctuate  considerably,  but,  unless  Nature  is  subjected 
to  violence  and  outrage,  its  intrinsic  value  never  varies. 
It  always  possesses  the  same  capabilities,  if  not  the  same 
qualities. 

There  is  one  feature  at  least — and,  to  me,  not  the  least 
important — wherein  the  bleakest  barren  is  equal  to  the 
most  bountiful  intervale.  Within  its  limits  the  proprietor 
is  sovereign  lord.  He  may  build,  tear  down,  excavate,  fill 
up,  plant,  destroy,  or  do  whatever  else  he  will.  Yea,  he 
may  even  (in  our  own  country)  write,  speak,  proselytize, 
establish  a  new  religious  sect,  adopt  another  form  of  govern- 
ment— provided  he  still  pays  his  taxes — and  in  every  other 
way,  compatible  with  the  rights  of  his  neighbors,  give  free 
play  to  the  eccentricities  of  his  individual  nature. 

I,  at  least,  in  receiving  the  deed,  determined  that  my  land 
should  be  "  Free  Soil."  Free  to  myself,  free  to  my  friends, 
free  to  all  the  world, — with  certain  restrictions  to  be  herein- 
after specified.  Before  proceeding  to  these,  let  me  note 
another  feature  of  human  nature,  which,  as  homo  sum^ 
could  not  have  failed  to  present  itself  without  constituting 


12  AT    HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

me  a  highly  exceptional  person.  I  forget  whether  it  was 
on  the  fii'st,  second,  or  third  visit  I  made  to  the  old  farm, 
(I  believe  I  went  every  day  for  the  first  Aveek,)  when  my 
satisfaction  received  a  check.  The  ridge  running  through 
the  property  is  the  highest  in  the  neighborhood,  with  the 
exception  of  one  immediately  to  the  north,  which  conve- 
niently protects  it  from  the  cold  winds  of  winter.  My  own 
ridge,  therefore,  commands  an  extensive  view  over  the 
regions  to  the  east,  south,  and  west.  Through  the  inlets 
of  cedar-besprinkled  lawn  between  the  triple  groves,  I 
caught  lovely  glimpses  of  other  valleys,  between  me  and 
the  distant  purple  hills.  A  line  of  post-and-rail  was  drawn 
across  the  middle  ground  of  each  picture — it  was  my  line 
fence !     There  my  sovereignty  ceased. 

My  previous  sense  of  possession,  "This  is  mine,"  was 
immediately  displaced  by  the  unreasonable  longing :  "  If  all 
that  were  only  mine !"  Like  the  Frenchman,  who,  sitting 
down  to  a  crust  of  bread  and  a  cup  of  water,  and  being 
unexpectedly  presented  Avith  a  bottle  of  wine,  groAvled, 
'■'■Peste!  vin  ordinaire!  you  might  have  given  me  Bur- 
gundy !" — or  the  child  who  gets  an  apple  and  then  cries 
because  he  can't  have  six,  I  now  wanted  to  feel  myself  the 
owner  of  all  the  land  within  the  range  of  vision.  My  pos- 
session was  incomplete — it  was  on\y  part  of  a  landscape. 
Those  forests  which  now  so  beautifully  feather  the  distant 
hills  may  be  destroyed  at  the  will  of  another.  I  have  no 
power  to  preserve  them.  How  fortunate  are  those  large 
landholders  in  England,  who  can  ride  thirty  miles  in  a 
straight  line  through  their  own  property !  They  can  mount 
the  highest  hill,  and  all  which  the  rounded  sky  incloses, 


A   COUNTRY   HOME  IN   AMERICA.  13 

belongs  to  them — stream,  forest,  meadow,  mountain,  vil- 
lage, mills,  and  mines ! 

But  presently  an  inner  voice  whispered :  "  Great  estates 
are  a  curse.  They  flatter  the  selfish  pride  of  one  man,  that 
a  thousand  others  may  be  homeless.  You,  who  rejoice  in 
the  soil  you  have  just  achieved,  finding  therein  a  better 
right  to  residence  on  the  earth,  would  you  crowd  out  others 
from  the  same  privilege  ?  You,  with  your  fields  and  groves, 
would  you  grudge  the  laborer  his  single  acre,  or  yonder 
farmer  his  hill-sides,  made  dearer  to  him  by  the  labors  of 
his  fathers  for  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ?  Have  you  not  soil 
enough  for  the  exercise  of  your  coveted,  freedom  ?  Were 
all  the  land  yours,  to  the  furthest  hill,  you  would  stand 
upon  that,  and  extend  your  wishes  to  the  next  horizon.  lie 
has  enough  who  makes  a  wise  use  of  his  property.  Beware ! 
for  there  have  been  those,  who,  not  satisfied  with  ten  thou- 
sand acres,  were  reduced  to  seek  contentment  at  last  in  six 
feet  of  earth !" 

Besides,  I  thought,  this  is  but  the  outside  of  my  farm. 
Possession  is  not  merely  the  superficial  area :  it  extends, 
legally,  to  the  centre  of  the  earth.  I  own,  therefore,  a  nar- 
row strip  of  territory  nearly  four  thousand  miles  in  length! 
Truly  I  cannot  travel  to  the  end  of  my  dominion ;  what  of 
that  ? — I  have  no  desire  to  do  so.  And  above  me,  the  seas 
of  blue  air,  the  dark,  superimposing  space — all  is  mine,  half- 
way to  the  nearest  star,  where  I  join  atmospheres  with  some 
far-ofi"  neighbor !  The  scattered  clouds,  as  they  pass  over, 
the  rain,  the  rainbow,  lightnings  and  meteoric  fires,  become 
my  temporary  chattels.  Under  my  feet,  what  unknown 
riches  may  not  exist! — beds  of  precious  minerals,  geodes 


14  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

of  jewels,  sparry  caverns,  sections  of  subterranean  seas,  and 
furnaces  heated  from  tlie  central  fire !  This  is  wealth 
which,  indeed,  would  not  be  received  as  collateral  security 
for  a  loan,  but  it  is  therefore  none  the  less  satisfactory  to 
the  imagination. 

Standing,  once,  on  the  lawn  at  Farringford,  I  congra- 
tulated Alfred  Tennyson  on  the  beauty  of  his  view  across 
the  Solent,  to  the  blue,  wavy  outline  of  the  New  Forest. 
"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  but  it  wants  another  feature — three 
smumits  of  perpetual  snow,  yonder  !"  pointing  to  the  north- 
west. To  make  my  landscape  complete,  not  only  those 
three  peaks  are  required,  (also  in  the  northwest,)  but  a 
lake  or  a  river  in  one  of  the  intervening  valleys.  Until  I 
can  procure  them,  I  construct  temporary  Alps  from  the 
masses  of  sun-gilded 'Cumuli  which  settle  along  the  western 
horizon,  and  flatter  myself  that  I  shall  be  able  to  see  a  dis- 
tant river  from  the  top  of  my  future  house.  The  changes 
of  the  atmosphere — the  shifting  of  some  prevailing  tone  in 
the  colors  of  the  landscape — give  me,  virtually,  the  range 
of  many  lands.  My  property  may  lie  in  Norway,  in  Ame- 
rica, or  in  Andalusia :  it  depends  upon  the  sky.  Usually, 
however,  it  represents  the  midland  vales  of  England — undu- 
lating, deep  in  the  richest  foliage,  intersected  with  lanes  of 
hawthorn  and  clematis,  and  dotted  with  old  stone  country- 
houses  and  capacious  barns.  The  sentiment  of  the  scenery 
is  the  same — order,  peace,  and  home  comfort. 

Bat  I  have  wandered  away  from  the  proposed  disposition 
of  my  farm.  It  is  to  be  Free  Soil,  I  have  said — whereby  I 
do  not  mean  the  narrower  political,  but  the  larger  social 
sense  of  the  phrase.     If  I  am  lord  of  my  own  acres,  (as  the 


A   COUNTRY    HOME   IN   AMERICA.  IB 

politicians  say,  addressing  their  agricultural  constituents,) 
I  can  certainly  establish  my  own  social  laws.  In  the  first 
place,  I  proclaim  the  decrees  of  Fashion,  so  far  as  dress  Is 
concerned,  to  be  null  and  void,  anywhere  inside  of  my  line- 
fence.  No  gentleman  shall  there  be  obliged  to  cut  his 
throat  with  dog-collars,  nor  any  lady  to  present  the  appear- 
ance of  a  smashed  skull,  by  wearing  the  hideous  new  bonnet. 
Understand  that  I  do  not  prescribe ;  I  merely  abrogate : 
my  guests  are  at  liberty  to  wear  the  most  frightful  cos- 
tumes, if  they  please.  I  prefer  beauty  to  deformity — that 
is  all. 

Thought  and  speech  (unnecessary  profanity  excepted, 
which,  indeed,  is  not  to  be  presumed  of  any  of  my  guests) 
shall  be  as  free  as  possible.  My  political,  religious,  or  lite- 
rary antagonist,  if  he  be  not  inadmissible  on  personal 
grounds,  shall  have  free  range  of  my  woods  and  fields. 
Believing  that  men  can  only  be  justly  estimated  by  their 
character,  not  by  their  opinions,  I  shall  ask  no  man  to 
declare  himself  on  the  foregoing  points.  I  have  been 
treated  with  brotherly  kindness  by  pious  Mussulmen  and 
noble-hearted  heathen  :  God  forbid  that  I  should  possess  a 
narrower  soul  than  they  !  There  is  one  class  of  characters, 
however,  which  will  be  tolerated  on  no  condition.  Hypo- 
critical, insincere,  time-serving  creatures,  shams  of  all  kinds, 
men  with  creaking  boots,  stealthy  cat-step,  oily  faces,  and 
laige  soft  hands,  (which  they  are  always  rubbing) — for  such 
there  is  no  entrance.  To  this  class  belong  most  of  the 
Pharisees,  who,  it  is  needless  to  say,  are  excluded,  severally 
and  collectively.  The  other  variety — the  men  with  thin 
faces,  bilious,  sallow  complexions  and  mouths  depressed  at 


16  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

the  corners,  with  a  melancholy  aridity  of  face — the  human 
Saharas,  in  fact — will  not  seek  me. 

While  I  am  upon  the  subject  of  Prohibition,  it  occurs  to 
me  that  there  are  two  other  classes  of  men  to  whom  the 
taboo  must  necessarily  be  applied.  Those  who  worship  the 
Golden  Calf,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  other  gods,  are  some- 
times men  of  acquirements,  agreeable  talkers,  candid  and 
consistent  characters,  even.  Where  their  stinginess  is 
hereditary  or  congenital,  I  can  make  great  allowance  for  it. 
I  could  have  torn  down  every  fence  to  let  Wordsworth  in. 
Pope,  who  spent  a  thousand  pounds  on  his  garden,  would 
be  most  welcome,  were  he  living.  But  in  these  examples, 
the  aesthetic  sense  was  as  fully  developed  as  the  acquisitive 
faculty.  Where  the  latter  predominates,  without  any 
counterbalancing  grace  of  mind,  it  is  sure  to  protrude  hate- 
fully in  all  directions.  My  trees,  for  instance,  would 
become  so  much  standing  lumber,  my  lawn  a  hay-field,  my 
violets  "  trash,"  in  the  eyes  of  a  genuine  miser.  My  oaks 
would  consider  it  an  insult  to  be  forced  to  cast  their  sum- 
mer shadow  on  such  a  head. 

At  the  outer  gate  I  shall  hang  up  a  large  board,  with  the 
inscription,  "No  Admittance  for  Bores."  Not  that  I 
expect  it  will  do  much  good — for  the  Bore  never  seems  to 
suspect  that  he  is  a  bore.  I  have  known  some  so  pro- 
nounced in  character  that  they  might  almost  be  classed 
under  the  genus  Vampyre,  who  yet  imagined  themselves 
the  most  channing  persons  in  the  world.  Unexceptionably 
dressed,  booted,  gloved,  and  perfumed  regardless  of 
expense,  thoy  resembled  automatic  figures,  and  exhausted 
you  in  your  attempts  to  find  a  soul,  or  to  infuse  one  into 


A  COITNTKY   HOME  IN   AMERICA.  17 

them.  You  may  cry  Procul,  0  prociil!  until  you  ai'e 
hoarse.  They  draw  all  the  nearer,  complacently  sm^posing 
that  their  parrot  phrases  are  the  certain  "  Open  Sesame  !" 
to  your  spiritual  crypts.  May  my  Dryads  and  Hamadry- 
ads— or,  if  these  fail,  my  underground  gnomes — find  some 
spell  to  keep  them  off!  If  every  other  charm  fails,  I  think 
I  shall  have  a  special  chamber  in  my  house  for  their  accom- 
modation, a  reproduction  of  the  Falterkammer  or  torture- 
chamber  of  the  Middle  Ages,  where  they  shall  sleep 
between  sackcloth  sheets,  breathe  carbonic  acid  gas,  and 
be  visited  at  midnight  by  My  Skeleton,  which  shall  issue 
from  its  closet  in  the  corner.  I  shall  also  assume  a  cha- 
racter for  their  benefit — ridicule  their  ideas,  (if  they  have 
any,)  shock  their  prejudices,  (which  they  ahvays  have,)  and 
so  relieve  myself  of  the  disgust  which  I  feel  for  them  by 
making  them  disgusted  with  me. 

With  the  foregoing  exceptions,  all  honest  men  and 
women  are  free  to  my  soil.  Antagonism  does  not  preclude 
respect  or  admiration.  I  shall  be  happy  to  see  Mr.  H.,  the 
young  Virginian  Christian,  feeling  confident  that  he  will 
not  attempt  to  muzzle  me,  on  my  own  ground.  But  of  all 
visitors,  that  class  described  by  Wordsworth  in  his  "  Poet's 
Grave"  will  be  most  welcome.  The  Poet,  whether  known 
or  unknown,  shall  have  the  range  of  my  pastures.  He  may 
come  with  his  brother,  the  Artist,  by  his  side :  no  questions 
will  be  asked  :  the  gate  will  open  of  itself:  the  trees  will 
drop  their  branches  in  salute,  and  if  the  house  be  built, 
banners  will  suddenly  unfold  from  the  topmost  tower. 
They  may  lie  in  the  tropical  shade  of  sassafras  trees  or  bury 
themselves  in  arbors  of  wild-grape  ;  listen  to  the  song  of 


18  AT    HOME    AND   ABROAD, 

the  wind  in  the  pines,  or  track  the  hidden  brook  under  its 
banks  of  concealing  fei'n.  I  can  number  five  poets,  already, 
who  have  given  their  benediction  to  the  landscape,  and  one 
of  them  whom  Nature  has  taken  to  her  heart  as  an  accepted 
lover,  said  to  me,  in  the  hearing  of  my  trees :  "  Spare  them, 
every  one !"  With  such  guests,  no  secret  beauty  of  my 
possession  shall  remain  undiscovei'ed.  Every  mind  shall  be 
associated  with  some  new  grace,  some  previously  over- 
looked beauty,  until  I  shall  live,  as  in  an  island  of  a  tropic 
sea,  enringed  with  enchanted  warmth  and  bloom. 

Thus  much  may  Life  grant  to  me — but  can  I  keep  out 
the  spectral  visitors  which  enter  every  door  ?  Will  not 
Care  leap  over  ray  fence  from  her  perch  behind  the  horse- 
man ?  Will  not  the  tutelar  deity  of  tliese  United  States — 
the  goddess  Worry — compel  me  to  erect  an  altar  for  her 
Avorship  ?  Ah,  me !  the  soil  that  is  free  to  light  must  be 
free  also  to  shadow.  The  sun  shines  upon  my  southward- 
sloping  lawn,  but  sometimes  a  gloomy  rain  comes  over  the 
northern  hill.  Well,  if  Care  but  come  liand-in-hand  with 
Cheerfulness — if  the  statue  of  Patience  look  with  com- 
posed face  upon  the  knit  brows  of  Worry — my  soil  shall 
be  free,  even  to  the  persecuting  deities !  Like  Polycrates, 
I  shall  now  and  then  throw  a  ring  into  the  sea.  To  enjoy 
the  loan  of  Peace,  which  we  borrow  from  a  Power  outside 
of  this  bankrjipt  world,  we  must  pay  an  interest  of  at  least 
ten  per  cent,  of  Trouble. 

But  individual  freedom  is  so  rare  a  blessing  as  to  be 
worth  any  price  a  man  can  pay.  Therefore,  whatever  visi- 
tors take  advantage  of  the  open  gate,  no  immunity  would 
be  quite  so  bad  as  a  padlock.     The  gate  shall  stay  open — 


A   COUNTRY    HOME   IN    AMERICA.  19 

nailed  back,  if  need  be,  like  the  hospitable  doors  of  Tartary 
— and  the  Soil  shall  be  Free  ! 


3. — ^The  Building  of  a  House. 

As  a  matter  of  course,  when  I  bought  the  old  farm,  it 
was  with  the  expectation  of  building  a  house  at  some  time 
or  other.  Not  but  that  I  was  for  the  present  satisfied  to 
possess  and  protect  the  old  trees,  and  to  have  a  basis  of 
reality  for  my  airy  architecture;  but  I  also  looked  far 
ahead,  and  hoped,  at  least,  that  the  necessity  for  a  house 
would  be  among  the  fruits  of  Time.  For,  you  understand, 
a  house  implies  something  more  than — a  house.  Nothing 
in  this  world  should  be  done  without  a  reason  for  it,  and 
the  true  reason,  which  I  could  not  give  at  that  time,  is  one 
which  can  only  come  to  a  n!an  through  the  favor  of  some 
benignant  Fate. 

Nevertheless,  it  was  pleasant  to  walk  over  the  briery 
fields,  and  say :  "  In  case  I  should  build  a  house,  here — or 
here — would  be  a  good  site  for  it."  "  Oh,  not  there," 
would  some  kind  adviser  suggest — "  but  here,  in  the 
wood."  "  Nearer  the  road,  by  all  means,"  said  another. 
"  No,  I  should  build  on  the  foundations  of  the  old  house," 
was  the  opinion  of  a  third.  Nature,  however,  had  fixed 
the  true  site  too  palpably  to  be  mistaken,  and  the  discovery 
of  this  fact  saved  me  all  discussion.  Between  my  grove 
of  oaks  and  the  clumps  of  vine-entangled  trees  which  had 
sprung  up  along  the  line  of  the  old  hedge-row,  lay  some 
ten  acres  of  ground,  sloping  gently  toward  the  south-east, 


20  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

and  dotted  with  the  most  charmuig  groups  of  cedars  which 
it  is  possible  to  imagine.  In  the  centre  thereof  stood  a 
single  oak,  with  broad  arms  drooping  until  they  touched 
the  ground  in  a  wide  circle  around  its  trunk.  Further 
down  were  five  scattered  chestnut  and  hickory  trees,  a 
glossy  gum,  two  maples,  and  a  bowery  wilderness  of  haw- 
thorns, which,  in  May,  rose  like  mounds  of  snow  against 
the  borders  of  another  grove  on  the  south.  But  in  the 
gaps  between  these  scattered  trees  and  the  groves  on  either 
hand,  one  could  see  the  village  on  the  hill-top,  a  mile  away, 
and  the  soft  blue  slopes  of  other  and  higher  hills  in  the 
distance. 

Here  was  a  lawn,  ready-made  by  Nature,  such  as  half  a 
century  of  culture  could  scarcely  achieve  elsewhere.  To 
the  north,  where  it  reached  the  highest  portion  of  the 
ridge,  the  ground  was  level  and  bare  of  trees,  except  a 
single  group  of  walnuts,  close  at  hand,  and  two  colossal 
chestnuts,  a  little  to  the  west.  As  the  ground  began  to 
fall  off  northward,  the  cedars  again  made  their  appearance, 
increasing  in  number  as  they  approached  the  edge  of  still 
another  wood,  which  bounded  my  possessions  on  that  side. 
On  this  ridge,  ci'owning  the  natural  lawn,  sheltered  on  the 
porth,  open  to  the  south-east  and  to  the  sunset,  and  sur- 
rounded with  the  noblest  specimens  of  tree-beauty,  was  the 
place.  Having  once  imagined  a  house  there,  it  could 
not  be  removed.  "Why,"  said  I,  "I  have  only  to  cut 
off  these  briers  and  turn  the  sedge-grass  into  sod,  and 
the  building  of  the  house  will  transform  this  wilderness 
into  an  ancient  park,  suggesting  care  and  culture  every, 
where — 


A    COUNTRY    HOME   IN   AMERICA.  21 

"  an  English  house, — gray  twilight  poured 

On  dewy  pastures,  dewy  trees, 
Softer  than  sleep — all  things  in  order  stored, 

A  haunt  of  ancient  Peace." 

Now,  what  kind  of  a  house  shall  I  build  ?  was  the  next 
question  I  asked  myself;  and  I  ran  over  in  my  mind  the 
Grecian  temples  of  some  years  ago,  the  misnamed  Gothic 
of  to-day,  the  Palladian,  the  Elizabethan,  and  the  Non- 
descript (very  popular),  only  building  to  tear  down  again, 
as  I  saw  some  incongruity,  some  want  of  adaptation  to  cli- 
mate, soil,  and  suiToundings.  Soon,  however,  I  hit  upon 
the  truth,  that,  as  the  landscape  was  already  made  and  the 
house  was  not,  the  former  should  give  the  character  of  the 
latter.  I  have  no  choice  :  I  must  build  something  that  will 
seem  to  belong  naturally  to  the  lawn  and  the  trees.  Except 
in  a  city,  where  houses  are  the  accessories  of  houses — often 
a  mere  blank  background,  against  which  you  can  paint 
anything — the  situation  of  a  dwelling  must  determine  its 
architecture.  The  cottage  that  would  be  charming  beside 
a  willowy  brook,  is  ridiculous  behind  an  avenue  of  elms,  and 
the  mansion  which  dominates  superbly  over  a  broad  and 
spacious  landscape  fails  to  impress  you  when  built  in  a 
secluded  valley. 

The  community,  I  found,  had  settled  the  matter  long 
before  me.  The  house  was  to  contain  something  of  every 
style  of  architecture  which  I  had  seen  in  my  wanderings 
over  the  world.  There  was  to  be  a  Grecian  fagade,  with 
one  wing  Gothic  and  the  other  Saracenic  ;  a  Chinese  pagoda 
at  one  comer,  an  Italian  campanile  at  the  other,  and  the 
pine-apple  dome  of  a  Hindoo  temple  between  the  chimneys. 


22  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

Tlie  doors  would  be  copied  from  "Westminster  Abbey, 
the  windows  from  the  Mosque  of  Omar,  the  ceilings  from 
the  Alhambra,  and  the  staircases  from  the  Mormon  temple 
at  Salt  Lake.  The  material,  of  course,  was  to  be  a  mixture 
of  brick,  granite,  porcelain  tiles,  clap-boards,  marble, 
adobes^  and  porphyry.  But  a  man's  life  and  works,  alas ! 
too  often  fail  to  realize  the  expectations  of  his  friends. 

More  than  five  years  elapsed,  from  the  time  the  property 
came  into  my  possession,  before  I  saw  a  good  reason  for 
making  it  habitable.  When  I  came  to  think,  seriously, 
upon  the  plan  of  a  house  which  was  to  be  built  up  with  no 
imaginary  mortar,  but  bond  Jide  lime  and  sand,  I  foxind 
that  the  true  plan  was  already  there,  perhaps  unconsciously 
suggested  by  the  expectant  trees.  It  must  be  large  and 
stately,  simple  in  its  forms,  without  much  ornament — in 
fact,  expressive  of  strength  and  permanence.  The  old  halls 
and  manor-houses  of  England  are  the  best  models  for  such 
a  structure,  but  a  lighter  and  more  cheerful  aspect  is 
required  by  our  Southei'n  summer  and  brighter  sky.  There 
must  be  lai'ge  windows  and  spacious  verandas  for  shade 
and  air  in  summer,  steep  roofs  to  shed  the  rain  and  winter 
snoAV,  and  thick  walls  to  keep  out  our  two  extremes  of  heat 
and  cold.  Furthermore,  there  must  be  a  tower,  large 
enough  for  use  as  well  as  ornament,  yet  not  so  tall  as  to 
belittle  the  main  building. 

This  much  being  settled,  the  next  step  was  so  to  plan  the 
interior  arrangements  that  they  should  correspond  to  the 
external  forms.  The  true  way  to  build  a  house  is  to  deter- 
mine even  the  minutest  details  before  commencing  the 
work.     In  any  case,  the  interior  is  of  paramount  import- 


A   COUNTRY   HOME  IN    AMERICA.  23 

ance,  and  it  is  better  to  get  the  rooms,  staircases,  closets, 
doors,  and  windows  rightly  arranged  at  first,  and  then 
inclose  them  with  the  extei'nal  wall,  than  the  reverse. 
Here,  again,  another  subject  claims  our  consideration — the 
furniture,  which  demands  certain  spaces  and  certain 
arrangements.  In  short,  none  of  the  appliances  of  domes- 
tic life  can  be  overlooked.  I  was  astounded — Avhen  I  came 
to  the  downright  work  at  last — to  find  what  a  multitude  of 
interests  it  was  necessary  to  harmonize.  The  soul  of  a 
house,  after  all,  which  is  its  character  as  a  home,  is  of  more 
importance  than  the  body. 

I  do  not  propose  to  take  up  the  question  of  the  internal 
details,  as  every  man — or,  rather,  every  man's  wife — has, 
or  ought  to  have,  her  own  views  of  housekeeping,  and  its 
requirements.  I  had  some  general  ideas,  however,  which 
I  determined  to  carry  out,  and  the  resixlt  of  my  experi- 
ence, inasmuch  as  it  lias  no  reference  to  individual  tastes, 
may  be  useful  to  others. 

I  saw,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  houses  built  in  this  cen- 
tury are  generally  much  inferior,  in  point  of  comfort  and 
durability,  to  those  built  in  the  last.  Walls  crack,  roofs 
leak,  wood  rots,  plaster  peels  off,  in  a  way  that  would  have 
astonished  our  ancestors.  I  know  of  a  house  in  Maryland, 
two  hundred  years  old,  the  foundation  wall  of  which, 
having  been  completely  undermined  at  one  corner  for  the 
l^urpose  of  building  a  vault,  held  together  unmoved,  sup- 
porting the  weight  of  the  house  by  lateral  adhesion  only^ 
Good  mortar,  then,  was  the  first  requisite :  thick  walls,  the 
next :  well-seasoned  timber,  the  third.  The  shells  erected 
in  our  cities,  with  mortar  that  crumbles  and  joists  that 


24  AT    HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

bend  or  crack,  would  not  be  tolerated  in  Europe.  We 
build  in  the  most  expensive  style  possible — that  is,  so 
rapidly  and  slightly,  that  a  house  is  ready  to  be  pulled 
down  at  the  end  of  twenty-five  years,  instead  of  being 
habitable  at  the  end  of  five  hundred.  Here,  then,  is  one 
error  which  I  shall  avoid. 

Moreover,  once  in  a  lifetime  is  often  enough  for  most 
men  to  build.  It  is  very  little  more  trouble  to  build  a 
large  house  than  a  small  one,  when  one's  hand  is  fairly  in. 
As  for  running  up  a  building  proportioned  to  your  present 
necessities,  and  then  adding  to  it  as  your  necessities  enlarge, 
I  set  my  face  against  it.  Besides  the  repetition  of  a  dis- 
tracting labor,  the  result  is  generally  an  incongruous  mass, 
where  both  external  beauty  and  internal  convenience  are 
sacrificed.  I  shall,  therefore,  I  said,  build  larger  than  I 
need.  Better  have  a  few  empty  chambers  for  some  years, 
than  build  a  second  time. 

With  regard  to  the  material,  a  stone  house  is  the  most 
beautiful  and  durable,  and,  if  the  external  walls  have  a 
hollow  chamber  (as  they  always  should  have),  as  dry  and 
comfortable  as  any  other.  I  scarcely  know  a  more  appro- 
priate house  for  the  country  than  a  rough,  irregular  stone- 
wall, with  dressed  quoins,  projecting  a  little  beyond  it. 
My  choice,  however,  has  to  be  directed  by  other  considera- 
tions. There  are  both  limestone  and  hornblende  in  the 
immediate  neighboi'hood,  and  within  six  miles  quarries 
of  serpentine ;  but  I  have  a  bed  of  excellent  clay  in  one 
of  my  own  fields.  The  expense  of  hauling  the  stone,  in  a 
hilly  country,  would  alone  equal  the  cost  of  the  brick. 
Some  architect  has  said,  that  the  color  of  a  house  should 


A    COUNTKY    HOME   IN   AMERICA.  25 

always  have  some  resemblance  to  that  of  the  soil  upon 
which  it  stands — which  is  really  a  very  good  general  rule : 
then  why  not  also,  if  you  can,  get  the  material  for  your 
house  out  of  the  soil  ?  Some  rocks  of  gray,  silvery  sand- 
stone which  cropped  out  on  the  ridge  at  the  edge  of  the 
oak-wood,  promised  to  furnish  me  with  the  loveliest  mate- 
rial, but  after  furnishing  just  enough  for  the  foundation- 
walls,  the  deposit  suddenly  ceased. 

After  much  deliberation  I  decided  upon  brick,  with 
stone  quoins.  The  clay,  to  my  great  satisfaction,  had  a 
pale  purplish  tinge  when  burned,  instead  of  the  usual 
glaring  red,  and  harmonized  admirably  with  the  bluish- 
gray  granite  of  the  corners.  There  was  such  an  abundance 
of  it  that  I  felt  entirely  free  to  carry  out  ray  ideas  with 
regard  to  strength  and  durability.  I  therefore  fixed  the 
thickness  of  the  walls  at  two  feet,  including  a  hollow  cham- 
ber of  an  inch  and  a  half,  and  the  thickness  of  the  inner 
partition-walls  (which  were  also  of  brick)  at  one  foot. 
The  latter,  besides  being  fire-proof  and  almost  impervious 
to  sound,  proved  to  be  as  cheap  in  the  end  as  studs  and 
laths.  The  result  has  satisfied  me  that  no  house  can  be 
truly  comfortable  unless  the  walls  are  thick,  with  a  hollow 
chamber,  or  at  least  firred  on  the  inside.  The  latter  plan, 
however,  does  not  always  insure  complete  dryness.  On 
the  other  hand,  I  have  heard  of  one  brick  waU  of  thiiteen 
inches,  which  proved  to  be  quite  dry ;  but  in  this  case  the 
mortar  was  of  the  best  quality.  The  additional  thickness 
of  the  wall  would  be  paid  for  in  a  few  years  by  the  saving 
in  fuel,  in  many  parts  of  the  country. 

For  the  finishing  of  the  rooms  there  is  nothing  equal  to 

2 


26  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

the  native  wood,  simply  oiled  to  develop  the  beauty  of  the 
grain.  Even  the  commonest  pine,  treated  in  this  way,  has 
a  warmth  and  lustre,  beside  which  the  dreary  white  paint, 
so  common  even  in  the  best  houses,  looks  dull  and  dead. 
Nothing  gives  a  house  such  a  cold  uncomfortable  air  as 
white  paint  and  white  plaster.  This  color  is  fit  only  for 
the  tropics.  Our  cheap,  common  woods — pine,  ash,  chest- 
nut, oak,  maple,  beech,  walnut,  butternut — offer  us  a 
variety  of  exquisite  tints  and  fibrous  patterns,  which,  until 
recently,  have  been  wholly  disregarded  in  building.  Even 
in  furniture,  we  are  just  beginning  to  discover  how  much 
more  chaste  and  elegant  are  oak  and  walnut  than  maho- 
gany. The  beauty  of  a  room  is  as  dependent  on  the  har- 
mony of  its  coloring  as  that  of  a  picture.  Some  of  the 
ugliest  and  most  disagreeable  apartments  I  have  ever  seen, 
were  just  those  which  contained  the  most  expensive  furni- 
ture and  decorations. 

My  experience  shows  that  a  room  finished  with  the  best 
seasoned  oak  or  walnut  costs  actually  less  than  one  finished 
with  pine,  painted  and  grained  in  imitation  of  those  woods. 
Two  verandas  of  yellow  pine,  treated  to  two  coats  of  boiled 
oil,  have  a  richness  and  beauty  of  color  beyond  the  reach 
of  pigments ;  and  my  only  regret  connected  with  the  house 
is,  that  I  was  persuaded  by  the  representations  of  mecha- 
nics, to  use  any  paint  at  all. 

There  is  another  external  feature  which  the  brilliancy 
of  our  sunshine  not  only  suggests,  but  demands.  JRellef  is 
an  absolute  requirement.  Most  houses  should  have,  not 
only  a  cornice  proportioned  to  their  dimensions  and  in 
keeping  with  their  character,  but  string-pieces  between  the 


A    COUNTRY    HOME    IN    AMERICA.  27 

stories,  and  window-caps  and  sills  projecting  sufficiently  to 
cast  a  shade.  I  found  also,  that  an  excellent  effect  could 
be  obtained,  without  additional  expense,  by  setting  the 
windows  and  doors  in  raised  panels  of  brickwork,  project- 
ing two  or  three  inches  from  the  face  of  the  wall.  For  the 
string-pieces,  a  simple  row  of  dentils,  formed  by  setting 
out  alternate  bricks,  can  be  made  by  the  most  ordinary 
workman.  Design,  not  cost,  is  the  only  difference  between 
a  fine  house  and  a  poor  one.  The  same  material  used  in 
building  the  plainest  and  dreariest  cube  called  a  house, 
may  be  cast  into  a  form  which  shall  charm  every  one  by 
its  elegance  and  fitness.  I  have  seen  very  beautiful  villas 
— the  residences  of  wealthy  families — on  the  islands  of  the 
Neva,  at  St.  Petersburg,  which  were  built  entirely  of  un- 
hewn logs,  exactly  of  equal  size,  barked,  dovetailed  at  the 
corners,  and  painted  the  color  of  the  wood.  Such  a  house, 
with  a  rustic  veranda  of  unbarked  limbs,  overgrown  with 
our  wild  ivy  or  clematis,  would  make  a  more  beautiful  and 
appropriate  farmer's  home  than  a  brown-stone  palace. 

Let  me  give  one  more  hint,  derived  from  my  experience, 
to  those  who  may  be  contemplating  a  little  private  archi- 
tecture. Get  all  the  estimates  from  the  various  mechanics, 
add  them  together,  and  increase  the  sum  total  by  fifty  per 
cent.,  as  the  probable  cost  of  your  undertaking :  but  do  not 
say  what  the  real  cost  is  until  everything  is  finished.  Then 
you  will  know.  Even  the  estimates  of  the  most  experi- 
enced workmen,  I  have  found,  are  not  to  be  depended 
upon.  It  is  the  little  ills  of  life  that  wear  us  out ;  and  it  is 
likewise  the  little  expenses  that  empty  our  purses. 

However,  let  me  content  myself  that  another  requisition 


28  AT   HOME   AND    ABKOAD. 

of  the  Italian  proverb  is  fulfilled — that  the  house  is  built, 
and  likely  to  stand  for  two  or  three  centuries,  when,  in  all 
probability,  the  inscribed  stone  over  its  portal  will  be  the 
only  memorial  of  the  name  of  its  builder..  That,  however, 
does  not  concern  me.  While  I  live,  I  trust  I  shall  have 
my  trees,  my  peaceful,  idyllic  landscape,  my  free  country 
life,  at  least  half  the  year,  and  while  I  possess  so  much, 
with  the  ties  out  of  which  all  this  has  grown,  I  shall  own 
100,000  shares  in  the  Bank  of  Contentment,  and  consider 
that  I  hold  a  second  Mortgage  Bond  on  the  Railroad  to 
the  Celestial  City. 


4. — Results  and  Suggestions. 

Now  that  my  house  has  been  inhabited  for  upwards  of 
eighteen  months — that  sedge  and  briers  have  vanished  from 
the  lawn,  and  thick  green  English  grass  is  usurping  the 
place  of  mullein  and  white-weed  ;  that,  high  over  the  spot 
where  I  once  walked  and  dreamed,  I  now  sit  and  write — it 
may  be  well  to  report,  confidentially,  to  my  friends,  on  the 
result  of  the  plans  already  laid  before  them.  A  kite  of 
fancy  always  flies  more  steadily  when  it  is  weighted  by  a 
tail-bob  of  fact.  Let  no  reader  presume  that  the  foregoing 
papers  are  merely  imaginative.  Every  object  I  have  named 
I  can  still  exhibit  in  proof,  except  the  lower  boughs  of  ray 
solitary  lawn-oak  which  a  murderous  farmer  cut  off  during 
my  absence.  The  cedars  unpruncd,  but  cleared  of  the 
choking  wilderness  and  given  a  smooth  base  to  stand  upon, 
are  the  admiration  of  strangers.  But  a  single  tree  in  the 
grove  has  been  felled — not  by  my  orders.      The  bees  had 


A    COUNTRY    HOME    IX   AMEKICA.  29 

chosen  one  of  its  hollow  limbs  for  their  hive,  and  some  un- 
known wretch,  whom  I  have  not  yet  forgiven,  sawed  the 
stately  trunk  asunder  on  a  dark  midnight,  ruining  for  ever 
the  work  of  three  hundred  years !  The  lightning  has  cut 
a  deep  gash  in  my  tallest  tulip-tree  from  crown  to  root,  and 
the  patriarchal  chestnuts  have  lost  some  boughs  in  a  storm; 
but  they  still  retain  their  twenty-four  feet  of  girth,  hang 
themselves  with  mealy  tassels  in  June,  and  feed  our  squir- 
rels when  the  burrs  crack  open  in  the  early  frost. 

Meantime,  our  store  of  associations  has  been  enriched  by 
two  discoveries.  The  muck  having  been  removed  from  a 
swamp  in  the  edge  of  a  piece  of  primitive  woodland,  we 
found  underneath  a  compact  bed  of  gravel  and  blue  clay, 
in  which,  four  feet  below  the  surface,  the  pick  unearthed 
the  guai-d  of  a  sword-hilt.  It  was  of  hammered  brass, 
straight  and  simple  in  form,  with  no  feature  by  which  its 
origin  could  be  determined.  I  am  pretty  sure,  however, 
that  it  is  Swedish.  More  than  two  hundred  years  ago,  the 
troopers  of  Gustavus  Adolphus  landed  on  the  banks  of  the 
neighboring  river ;  and  this  relic,  doubtless,  tells  of  some 
party  of  exploration  sent  inland  from  the  fortress  of  the 
giant  Printz  on  Thiicum  island.  A  hundred  and  thirty 
years  later,  the  armies  of  Howe  and  Comwallis  plundered 
my  farm,  on  the  morning  of  the  Brandywine  battle,  and  it 
is  also  possible  that  the  guard  may  date  from  that  incur- 
sion.    I  prefer  the  older  and  more  interesting  conjecture. 

One  morning,  before  the  house  was  built,  we  were  sur- 
prised at  finding  that  two  large  holes  had  been  dug  during 
the  night  near  our  clump  of  walnut-trees,  at  the  corner  of 
the  ancient  garden.    Who  the  excavator  was,  we  have  never 


30  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

been  able  to  discover,  but  he  was  probably  some  person  of 
the  neighborhood  who  had  kept  the  tradition  of  the  buried 
treasure.  That  he  had  found  nothing,  was  evident,  and 
the  fact  of  the  attempt  gave  so  much  color  to  the  tradition 
that  I  was  really  very  glad  it  had  been  made.  I  can  now 
say,  with  tolerable  assurance,  "  somewhere  near  this  spot 
lies  the  treasure" — ^but  I  shall  take  good  care  not  to  dig  for 
it,  lest  I  should  not  find  it.  The  story  is,  that  one  Fitzpa- 
trick  (properly  known  as  "  Fitz,")  a  noted  highwayman, 
who  was  the  terror  of  collectors  seventy  years  ago,  had  a 
lair  in  the  neighboring  woods,  and  secreted  a  portion  of  his 
spoils  on  the  old  farm.  His  arrest  was  so  unexpected,  and 
he  was  so  carefully  guarded  until  his  execution,  that  he  had 
no  opportunity  of  imparting  the  secret  to  his  confederates. 
The  attempt  to  discover  the  treasui-e  so  long  afterwards, 
shows  that  the  story  must  have  been  very  generally 
believed. 

The  house  stands  as  I  have  said,  and  the  farm  is  gra- 
dually assuming  an  aspect  of  olden  culture.  One  would 
never  guess  the  wilderness  it  so  recently  was.  Fifty  years 
of  neglect  have  done  for  me  what  twenty  years  of  careful 
landscape  gardening  could  not  accomplish.  The  groups  of 
dark  southern  cedars  suggest  the  planting  of  a  hand  guided 
by  as  true  a  taste  as  Downing's ;  yet  they  have  been  so 
little  disturbed  that  my  brood  of  owls  still  sit  there  in  the 
summer  evenings  and  hoot  their  melancholy  music.  We 
have  placed  a  rude  table  and  seats  under  the  walnuts,  and 
lo  !  they  seem  to  have  been  the  bower  of  generations.  The 
bunches  of  blue  and  white  violets,  set  in  among  the  grass 
on  a  sunny  bank,  come  up  in  the  spring  as  naturally  as  if 


A    COUNTRY   HOME   IN    AMERICA.  31 

they  had  grown  there  for  a  thousand  yeai'S.  N'ature  repays 
with  boundless  gratitude  the  smallest  attention  of  her 
lovers.  She  seems  to  know  every  point  of  finish  that  is 
necessary  for  her  own  completeness,  and  devotes  a  special 
energy  to  the  employment  of  the  offered  help.  Difiicult  as 
it  is  to  force  her  into  new  and  unusual  develojjments,  no- 
thing is  easier  than  to  lead  her  towards  the  heauty  which 
she  herself  suggests. 

Of  the  pines  and  firs  which  I  planted  along  my  northern 
boundaiy,  not  one  in  fifty  died,  and  their  growth  has  been 
so  constant  and  luxurious  as  to  assure  me  that  they  feel 
themselves  to  be  in  their  true  position.  The  larches  in  the 
openings  of  the  grove  are  no  less  satisfied  with  their  places, 
and  I  have  already  discovered  spots  which  the  elm,  the 
purple  beech,  and  the  magnolia,  will  at  once  recognize  and 
appropriate.  The  expei'ience  of  a  year  satisfies  me  that  the 
cedar  of  Lebanon,  the  deodar  of  the  Himalayas,  the  Japan- 
ese cryptomeria^  and  the  gigantic  sequoia  of  California,  can 
be  acclimated  to  my  lawn.  The  deciduous  cypress  of  the 
Southern  States  is  a  near  neighbor;  the  magnolia  grandi- 
flora  needs  but  a  slight  protection  through  the  winter,  and 
I  am  not  without  hojies  of  the  live-oak.  The  ridge  on 
which  my  house  is  built,  I  find,  is  much  more  favorable  to 
the  growth  of  delicate  trees  and  plants  than  are  the  deep 
and  sheltered  valleys  on  either  side.  The  early  and  late 
frosts  scarcely  touch  us,  and  the  extreme  cold  of  winter, 
besides  being  dry  in  its  character,  is  never  of  long  duration. 
On  this  very  25th  of  November,  the  geraniums,  the  pome- 
granates, and  the  golden-belled  arbutilon  are  still  gi-owing 
in  the  open  air.     My  latitude,  I  should  explain,  is  39°  50'. 


32  AT  HOME   AND   ABKOAD. 

I  hope  all  builders  of  houses  will  be  as  well  satisfied . 
with  their  work  as  I  am  with  mine.  Not  that  the  plan 
might  not  have  been  bettered  in  many  ways.  There  never 
yet  was  a  house  built  which  its  owner  could  pronounce 
incapableof  further  improvement.  Further,  no  new  house 
ever  stood  a  year  without  certain  repairs  being  necessary. 
Build  as  you  may,  a  violent  storm  will  disclose  to  you  the 
fact,  that  there  is  one  leak  in  the  roof;  one  chimney  will 
smoke  when  the  wind  is  in  a  certain  direction ;  one  window 
Avill  rattle  o'  nights,  and  one  door  warp  so  that  the  bolt 
fails  to  shoot  clear.  But  in  the  main  requisitions,  there  is 
success  :  the  thickness  of  the  walls  baffles  alike  cold,  heat, 
and  moisture.  Storms  war  around  us,  and  we  sit  in  a 
calm,  dry,  pure  air.  We  kindle  our  fires  in  the  autumn  a 
fortnight  later  than  our  neighbors,  and  let  them  go  out  a 
•fortnight  earlier,  in  the  spring.  In  a  southern  room,  which 
was  not  heated,  the  thermometer  did  not  fall  below  38°, 
during  the  whole  of  last  winter,  and  the  hardier  green- 
house plants  throve  finely.  In  fact,  when  the  sun  shines, 
fire  is  scarcely  necessary  in  the  rooms  that  look  towards 
him. 

In  summer,  though  the  shadow  of  no  tree  touches  the 
house,  it  holds  a  core  of  coolness  in  the  midst  of  the 
fiercest  heat.  The  sun,  unchecked,  may  exercise  his  whole- 
some chemistry.  The  morning  pours  into  our  windows 
a  vitalizing  torrent  of  light,  until  the  air  feels  crisp 
with  electric  vigor :  the  deep  verandas  give  us  shade  as 
the  day  advances,  and  keep  it  until  the  sunset  strikes 
under  them  from  the  opposite  side.  We  thus  receive 
the  beneficent  influences  of  light — ^we  keep  free  space  for 


A   COUKTRY   HOME  IX   AMERICA.  33 

the  enjoyment  of  cloud-scenery,  and  the  colors  of  morn- 
ing and  evening — without  being  obliged  to  take  the  glare 
and  heat  with  it.  I  have  always  considered  that  the 
masses  of  foliage  in  which  most  of  our  country-homes  are 
buried,  are  prejudicial  to  the  health  of  the  occupants. 
They  are  necessary,  no  doubt,  as  a  protection,  both  sum- 
mer and  winter,  in  the  absence  of  thick  walls.  A  cottage 
low  enough  to  look  under  a  tree,  may  stand  beside  one ; 
a  large  mansion-  should  have  trees  near  it,  but  not  so  close 
as  to  hide  the  out-look  from  its  windows. 

Notwithstanding  I  am  so  new  a  resident  on  my  own 
acres,  I  have  already  hoarded  up  quite  a  store  of  sug- 
gestions as  to  what  may  be  done.  I  perceive  ways  by 
which  I  can  lure  the  returning  Spring  to  my  doors,  in  ad- 
vance of  her  season,  mitigate  the  green  monotony  of  Sum- 
mer, arrange  in  harmonies  or  splendid  contrasts  the  scat- 
tered colors  of  Autumn,  and  even  contrive  a  remedy  for  the 
bleakness  of  Winter.  There  are  quaky  patches  I  can  drain, 
and  groups  of  living  springs,  which  I  can  collect  into  a 
pond.  There  are  unsightly  features  to  be  hidden,  and  gaps 
to  be  opened  for  fiirer  views — here,  a  bit  of  rough  land  to 
be  smoothed  and  rounded  ;  there,  a  wild  briery  clump  to  be 
spared  for  some  possible  future  office  in  the  scenery.  The 
successful  commander  must  know  his  men,  and  the  gar- 
dener, likewise,  must  have  an  intimate  pei-sonal  acquaint- 
ance with  his  trees  and  plants.  If  you  want  a  certain  duty 
performed,  you  must  select  the  individual  best  fitted  to  dis- 
charge it.  I  really  believe  that  plants  will  grow  better 
when  they  are  set  out  in  accordance  with  true  taste,  than 

when  taste  is  violated.     A  weeping-willow,  with  its  pen- 

9* 


34  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD 

dent,  swaying  tresses,  suggesting  reliance  and  dependence, 
would  be  ridiculously  out  of  place  on  the  summit  of  a  cliff, 
and  it  will  not  grow  there.  A  beech  is  handsomest  in 
groups,  and  it  does  not  thrive  so  well  singly  :  an  oak  is 
most  perfect  when  alone,  or  at  a  respectful  distance  from 
its  brethren.  The  sassafras  is  loveliest  when  it  is  wedded 
to  the  wild-grape,  and  neither  party  languishes  in  the 
union. 

Hence  follows  a  rule,  simple  enough,  but  which  cannot 
be  repeated  too  often.  Do  nothing  in  a  hurry.  Above  all, 
lift  the  axe  twenty  times  before  you  strike  once.  Do  not 
remove  a  tree,  until  you  have  studied  it  for  a  whole  year — 
until  you  have  seen  its  autumnal  as  well  as  its  summer  hue, 
and  looked  through  its  bare  boughs  to  see  whether  the 
objects  behind  it  would  be  a  gain  or  a  loss  to  the  eye. 
Whenever  you  plant,  take  a  mental  picture  of  the  full- 
grown  tree,  with  its  individual  form  and  color  ;  place  it  in 
the  spot,  and  compare  it  with  the  surroundings.  Substi- 
tute other  trees,  in  your  mind,  so  as  to  suggest  a  different 
effect.  Be  as  patient,  if  you  like,  and  as  hard  to  suit  as  a 
girl  in  selecting  the  ornaments  for  her  hair,  on  the  evening 
of  her  first  ball.  Every  time  you  walk  over  your  grounds, 
perform  this  imaginary  process  of  planting,  until  you  accus- 
tom yourself  to  see  trees,  and  study  their  effects  in  advance 
of  their  growth.  Then,  when  you  plant,  you  may  plant 
deep  and  sure,  with  a  tolerable  certainty  that  your  tree  will 
grow  and  be  a  credit  to  you. 

These  practices  have  taught  me  the  capabilities  (an  auc- 
tioneer's word)  of  the  country  everywhere.  The  superior 
beauty  of  England  is  owing  to  no  inherent  superiority  of 


* 

A    COUNTRY    HOME   IN   AMERICA.  35 

soil,  vegetation,  or  climate ;  it  is  simply  development,  as 
contrasted  with  our  transition  state.  Here,  one  sees  frag- 
ments of  the  wilderness  all  through  the  oldest  settled  States : 
wood-sides,  where  the  tall  naked  trunks  show  that  the  axe 
has  shaped  their  boundai'ies ;  spindly  trees  without  indivi- 
duality left  standing  where  woods  have  been  cut  away,  or 
stretches  of  field  and  meadow  without  a  tree.  We  lack 
nothing  which  England  possesses,  but  her  fresh,  perennial 
turf  Our  tree-forms  are  finer,  and  infinitely  more  varied, 
as  the  forms  of  our  scenery  ai'e  grander.  But  those  who 
will  see-  America  in  her  developed  beauty  will  be  our 
descendants  a  hundred  years  hence. 

Thus,  you  see,  the  day-dreams  I  spun  about  the  old  farm 
long  ago,  are  actually  realized.  Nor  have  the  later  dreams 
deceived  me.  The  trees  are  protected,  the  house  is  built, 
and  the  soil  is  fi'ee  !  The  poet  and  the  artist  have  tested 
their  right  to  admittance  ;  the  Bore  and  the  Pharisee  have 
shunned  my  gates.  A  few  clumps  of  shrubbery  will  soon 
hide  my  line-fence  from  sight,  and  I  shall  then  possess  the 
entire  landscape.  The  flag  of  the  undivided  Union  floats 
from  my 'tower,  and  no  traitor's  footstep  has  yet  blackened 
my  door-sill.  So  much  has  been  changed  from  the  airy 
coinage  of  the  brain  into  the  hard  ringing  gold  of  actual 
life,  that  I  have  no  nght  to  grieve  if  a  piece  turns  out  to 
be  counterfeit,  now  and  then.  God  is  bountiful  just  in  pro- 
portion as  men  are  able  to  see  His  bounties. 

I  have  often,  at  sea,  gone  on  deck  in  a  dark,  rainy  night, 
and  looked  abroad  into  the  wild  confusion  of  wind  and 
wave,  the  chaos  of  the  fatal  elements,  where  life  is  instantly 
swallowed  up.      Yet,  under  my  feet,  inclosed  within  the 


86  AT   HOME   AKD    ABROAD. 

hollow  timbers,  were  warmth,  and  light,  and  gay  trium- 
phant life — a  shell  of  immortal  existence  rushing  onward 
through  darkness,  over  the  surface  of  death.  It  seems  to 
me  no  less  miraculous  that  I  have  been  able  to  inclose  a 
portion  of  the  common  atmosphere,  so  that  heat,  cold,  wind, 
and  rain,  must  turn  aside  and  pass  it  by — a  warm  region 
of  secure  life  which  they  cannot  wither  or  blow  away. 
Every  house  is  such  a  miracle — a  geode,  which,  however 
rough  on  the  outside,  beaten  by  the  unkind  elements,  may 
cover  the  hollow  calm  in  which  jewels  ripen.  Not  unrea- 
sonably did  the  old  Romans  adopt  their  lares  and  penates. 
Every  home  attests  the  presence  of  the  Divinity  that  works 
through  man.  But  our  Lar  shall  be  a  Christian  goddess, 
crowned  with  amaranth  and  olive  ;  and  on  the  borders  of 
her  garment  shall  be  written,  "  Content." 


II. 

NEW  PICTURES  FROM  CALIFORNIA. 


1. — San  Fkancisco,  after  Tek  Years. 

Whek  I  first  landed  in  San  Francisco,  on  the  18th  of 
Aiigust,  1849,  I  was  put  ashore  on  a  clay  bank,  at  the  foot 
of  Clark's  Hill.  I  saw  before  me  a  large  encampment  of 
tents  and  canvas  houses,  among  which  some  wooden  build- 
ings arose  with  an  air  of  ostentation.  For  the  fee  of  two 
dollars,  a  Mexican  carried  my  trunk  to  the  Plaza,  where  I 
found  quarters  in  the  loft  of  an  adobe  building — a  rude 
bed,  and  three  meals  of  beefsteak,  bread,  and  cofiee,  at 
thirty-five  dollars  per  week.  The  town  was  already  laid 
out,  however,  and  there  was  much  speculation  in  building- 
lots.  About  a  dozen  streets  had  assumed  a  visible  outline, 
but  beyond  the  chaotic  encampment  rose,  bleak  and  barren, 
a  semi-circle  of  high  sand-hills,  covered  with  stunted  chap- 
paral.     The  population  of  the  place  was  about  5,000. 

On  the  28th  of  August,  1859 — ten  years  and  ten  days 


38  AT    UOME    AND    ABROAD. 

later — I  found,  instead  of  the  bay  between  Rincon  and 
Clark's  Point,  spacious  and  well-built  streets,  completely 
covering  the  former  anchorage  for  smaller  vessels.  From 
the  water-front — which  forms  a  chord  across  the  mouth  of 
the  lost  harbor — stretched  fifteen  massive  piers  out  into  the 
bay.  The  low  ground  in  front  of  us  was  crowded  with 
warehouses  and  maiftifactories,  as  the  tall  brick  chimneys 
denoted  ;  while  up  the  heights  behind,  stretched  row  after 
row  of  dwellings,  and  the  diverging  lines  of  streets,  to  the 
very  summits  of  the  four  hills.  Our  steamer  drew  up  to 
the  end  of  a  pier,  and  made  fast;  we  were  immediately 
saluted  with  the  cries  of  hackmen  and  omnibus  drivers ; 
runners  with  hotel  cards  jumped  aboard ;  residents  (no 
longer  dressed  in  flannel-shirts,  revolver-belts,  and  wide- 
awakes) came  down  to  welcome  returning  friends — in  fact, 
there  was  not  a  Californian  feature  about  the  picture,  if  I 
except  the  morning-blanket  of  gray  fog,  which  the  hills  of 
the  Coast  Range  never  kick  off  until  nine  or  ten  o'clock. 
There  were  no  wash-bowls  to  be  seen  ;  no  picks ;  no  tents  ; 
no  wonderful  patent  machines  ;  no  gold-dust. 

The  scene  upon  which  I  looked  was  altogether  unfamiliar 
to  my  eye.  Flags  in  the  breeze,  church-spires,  fant;istic 
engine-houses,  gay  fronts  of  dwellings,  with  the  animation 
of  the  holiday  crowds  in  the  streets  below,  gave  the  city  a 
gay  Southern  aspect.  Unlike  all  other  American  to\vns, 
there  was  nothing  new  in  its  appearance.  The  clouds  of 
sand  and  dust,  raised  by  the  summer  monsoon,  speedily 
wear  off  the  gloss  and  varnish  of  newly-erected  buildings, 
and  give  them  a  mellow  tone  of  age  and  use — the  charac- 
teristic,  as   well   as   the   charm   of  Mediterranean   ports. 


NEW    PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  3^ 

Without  the  evidence  of  my  own  experience,  I  should 
have  found  it  impossible  to  believe  that  I  looked  upon  the 
product  of  ten  years. 

When  the  fog  had  rolled  off  seaward,  and  the  soft,  pale- 
blue  sky  of  San  Francisco  arched  over  the  beryl  plain  of 
the  bay  and  its  inclosing  purple  mountains,  I  experienced  a 
mighty  desire  to  shake  off  the  lethargy  of  a  ti'opical  voyage 
by  a  drive  into  the  country.  I  took  the  precaution,  how- 
ever, to  ask  what  such  a  luxury  would  cost.  "Twenty 
dollars,  probably,"  was  the  answer.  Here  I  began  to 
realize  that  I  had  reached  California.  Nevertheless,  I  was 
about  to  order  a  vehicle,  when  a  friend  placed  his  own 
private  team  at  my  disposal.  We  wei*e  advised  to  take  the 
new  San  Bruno  road,  which  had  recently  been  opened 
beyond  the  mountain  of  that  name,  in  order  to  afford  a 
shorter  and  more  agreeable  road  to  San  Jose  than  the  old 
trail  over  the  hills. 

The  restless,  excited,  ultra-active  condition  of  mind  and 
body  engendered  (in  myself,  at  least,)  by  the  San  Francisco 
air,  can  only  be  cured,  homoeopathically,  by  draughts  of 
the  same.  People  work  here  as  they  work  nowhere  else 
in  the  world.  The  nor'west  wind,  flavored  with  Pacific 
salt,  which  draws  through  the  Golden  Gate  every  day  at 
noon,  sweeps  away  not  only  disease,  but  sloth,  despondency, 
and  stupidity.  Bulwer  says  :  "  On  horseback  I  am  Caesar, 
I  am  Cicero!" — but  that  afternoon,  when  I  saw  again  the 
Mission  Valley,  and  first  breathed  the  heavenly  odor  of  the 
Yerba  Huena,  sitting  behind  a  span  of  noble  bays,  I  was 
Homer,  Pindar,  Alexander  the  Great,  Peter  the  Great, 
Milo  of  Crotona,  and  General  Jackson,  all  in  one ! 


40  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD, 

We  drove  through  an  enchanted  land.  I  thought  I  had 
been  there  before,  yet  everything  I  saw  was  as  new  to  me 
as  it  was  to  my  companion.  Our  hotel  stood  without  the 
bounds  of  the  San  Francisco  of  1849.  Well  I  remembered 
the  three  miles  of  loose  sand  and  thorny  chapparal  which 
intervened  between  the  ridge  terminating  in  Rincon  Point 
and  the  Mission  of  Dolores.  Now  we  drove  for  half  a 
mile  down  a  broad  well-built  street.  Here  and  there, 
behind  the  houses,  lowered  a  mound  of  yellow  sand,  like 
the  scattered  forces  of  a  desert  kept  at  bay  and  but  half 
conquered.  The  rear  of  Clay-street  Hill,  dotted  over  with 
small  square  cottages,  resembled  Earth's  picture  of  Tim- 
buctoo.  But  the  Mission  Valley,  in  front  of  us,  green  and 
lovely,  with  a  background  of  purple  mountains,  was  a 
reminiscence  of  the  fairest  scenery  of  Greece.  "Now," 
said  I,  "  have  I  found  the  original  type  of  the  landscapes 
of  California !''  She  has  been  compared  to  Italy — to  Syria, 
with  more  correctness — ^but  her  true  antetype  in  nature  is 
Greece. 

Even  the  vegetation  had  undergone  a  change  since  my 
first  visit.  Along  the  streets,  in  rows,  grew  the  exquisite 
feathery  acacia ;  from  the  balconies,  fuchsias  hung  their 
pendants  of  coral  and  sapphire ;  heliotropes  wantoned  in 
immense  clumps  under  the  windows ;  and  the  fronts  of 
some  of  the  cottages  were  hidden  to  the  eaves  in  the 
scarlet  splendor  of  geraniums.  The  maloa,  here  a  tree, 
opened  its  hundreds  of  pink  blossoms :  the  wild  pea-vine 
of  Australia  clambered  over  the  porticoes,  and  the  willowy 
eucalyptus  flourished  as  if  in  its  native  soil.  The  marshy 
thickets  near  the  mouth  of  Mission  Creek  had  vanished, 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  41 

and  vegetable  gardens  filled  their  place ;  on  either  hand 
were  nurseries,  breathing  of  mignonette  and  violets,  and 
covered,  chin-deep,  with  superb  roses — huge  bouquets  of 
which  were  offered  us  by  boys,  along  the  road,  at  "  two 
bits"  apiece.  German  beer  and  music  gardens,  the  French 
Hospital,  a  sugar  refinery,  and  groups  of  neat,  suburban 
residences,  which  extended  even  beyond  the  Mission,  com- 
bined to  give  the  valley  an  old,  long-settled  air. 

Near  the  top  of  the  hill,  behind  the  Mission  building,  was 
a  spot  which  I  looked  for  with  a  curious  interest.  In  1849, 
I  had  taken  up  a  claim  there,  had  paid  for  the  survey,  and, 
for  aught  I  could  learn,  acquired  as  secure  a  title  as  most 
others  in  San  Francisco.  My  tract  contained  about  two 
acres — part  of  which  was  stony,  and  all  of  which  was  barren  : 
there  was  neither  grass  nor  water,  but  a  magnificent  pros- 
pect. At  that  time,  I  could  scarcely  say  that  I  owned  any- 
thing ;  and  the  satisfaction  which  I  felt  in  sitting  upon  one 
of  my  rocks,  and  contemplating  the  view  from  my  imagined 
front-window,  amply  repaid  me  for  the  surveyor's  fee. 
Where  the  documents  are,  I  have  not  the  least  idea :  whe- 
ther the  claim  was  ever  worth  anything  is  exceedingly 
doubtful ;  but  I  noticed  with  exultation  that  nobody  had 
as  yet  built  upon  it.  I  herewith  magnanimously  present 
the  property  to  the  first  man  who  shall  be  absurd  enough 
(in  all  eyes  but  mine)  to  build  the  house  I  imagine<l,  and 
enjoy  the  view  I  admired.  And  this  shall  be  sufficient  to 
him,  his  heirs,  executors,  and  assigns,  to  have  and  to  hold, 
etc.,  etc. 

Crossing  the  Mission  Creek,  the  road  kept  on,  over  roll- 
ing hills,  toward  the  San  Bruno  mountain.     On  either  side 


42  AT   HOME    A'Sn    ABROAD. 

were  farms — the  fields  divided  by  substantial  fences  of  red- 
wood, the  houses  small  and  one-storied,  but  sufficiently  com- 
fortable, and  the  gardens  luxuriant  with  vegetables.     The 
landscape  was  dotted  with  windmills,  which  are  very  gene- 
rally used  for  irrigation,  and  form  a  marked  feature  in  the 
agricultural  scenery  of  California.     About  six  miles  from 
the  city,  we  came  ujjon  a  hill,  divided  by  a  narrow  valley 
from  the  San  Bruno  range.     The  mountains,  lighted  by  the 
oblique  rays  of  the  afternoon  sun,  gleamed  in  the  loveliest 
play  of  colors.     The  tawny  hue  of  the  grass  and  wild  oats, 
brightening  into  lines  of  clear  gold  along  the  edges  of  the  hills 
buttressing  their  base,  brown  on  their  fronts,  and  dark  in 
the  sloping  ravines,  resembled  velvet  of  the  richest  texture  ; 
while  the  farther  peaks — pink  in  light,  and  violet  in  shade — 
gave  the  contrast  of  a  delicate  silk,     A  grove  of  live-oaks — 
slanting  away  from  the  wind  in  such  curious  attitudes  of 
liaste,  that  they  seemed  to  be  scampering  at  full  speed  over 
the  liill — stood  in  the  foreground,  while  on  our  left   the 
transparent  green  of  the  bay  shifted  through  blue  into  pur- 
ple, far  off.     For  aerial  beauty  and  harmony  of  color,  I  have 
never  seen  anything  to  surpass  this  view,  except  in  Greece. 
My  first  walks  through  San  Francisco  were  devoted  to 
the  search  for  some  old  landmark — some  wooden,  iron,  or 
copper  house  which  had  been  standing  in  1849.     But  I  was 
disappointed :    there    was    nothing    which   I   recognized. 
Four  great  fires  had  swept  away  the  temporary  structures, 
which  had  cost  almost  their  weight  in  silver,  and  stately 
houses  of  brick  or  granite  stood  in  their  places.     Montgo- 
mery street — wliich  is  now,  as  it  was  then,  the  centre  of 
business — would  be  considered  a  handsome,  well-built  street 


NEW   PICTURES    FKOM    CALIFORNIA.  43 

any  whei-e  ;  while  the  other  main  avenues,  although  abound- 
ing in  cheaply-built  and  hastily-erected  wooden  edifices, 
partake,  at  least,  of  the  same  character  of  life  and  activity. 
San  Francisco,  with  its  population  of  80,000,  has  already 
the  stamp  of  the  great  metropolis  which  it  is  destined 
to  be. 

Everywhere  change  !  I  went  to  the  plaza,  which  I  last 
saw  inclosed  by  gaming-hells  on  three  sides,  and  the  U.  S. 
Custom  House  on  the  fourth.  The  flimsy  structures  of  '49 
had  vanished  like  an  exhalation — even  the  old  adobe,  with 
its  tiled  roof,  representing  the  early  days  of  California,  was 
gone.  In  place  of  the  Parker  House  stood  a  City  Plall,  of 
Australian  freestone.  A  lofty,  irregular  mass  of  buildings 
had  arisen  on  all  sides,  dwarfing  the  square,  which,  sur- 
rounded by  a  heavy  iron  railing,  and  devoted  entirely  to 
threadbare  turf  and  some  languishing,  dusty  trees,  had  a 
prim  and  respectable  air,  truly  ;  yet  I  missed  the  rude,  fan- 
tastic, picturesque,  unrestrained  life  wherewith  it  was  filled 
ten  years  ago.  The  old  Post-Ofiice  had  almost  passed  out 
of  memory,  and  a  structure  much  more  massive  and  spa- 
cious than  our  lubberly  city  of  New  York  can  boast  of 
(which  must  be  content  with  the  most  inconvenient  little 
church  this  side  of  the  Atlantic),  is  now  devoted  to  Mails 
and  Customs,  From  all  parts  of  the  city  rise  the  spires  of 
churches  and  engine-houses,  showing  that  the  most  ample 
provision  has  been  made  for  the  quenching  of  both  spiritual 
and  temporal  fires.  To  complete  the  climax  of  progress, 
San  Francisco  is  more  honestly  governed  than  N«w  York, 
has  a  more  eflScient  police,  and  better  guards  the  lives  and 
property  of  her  citizens. 


44  AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

It  is  unfortunate  that  the  advice  of  an  intelligent  engineer 
could  not  have  been  taken,  when  the  city  was  first  laid  out, 
and  thus  the  advantages  of  its  topography  turned  to  better 
account.  The  jjeople  seem  at  first  to  have  cherished  the 
idea  that  the  hills  would  ultimately  be  levelled,  or,  at  least, 
their  tops  thrown  into  the  hollows  between,  so  as  to  pro- 
duce that  uniformity  of  surface  in  Avhich  the  American  mind 
delights.  Great  excavations  have  been  made  at  the  foot 
of  Telegraph  Hill,  but  mainly  for  the  purpose  of  running  a 
street  through  to  North  Beach.  The  other  hills,  however, 
proved  too  formidable ;  and  the  inhabitants  have  at  last 
found  out,  perforce,  that  the  slight  inconvenience  they  occa- 
sion is  a  hundredfold  atoned  for  by  the  picturesque  beauty 
they  confer  upon  the  city,  and  the  charms  which  they 
^ive  to  a  residence  in  it.  Clay  street  Hill  is  but  little  short 
of  four  hundred  feet  in  height,  and  the  windows  of  the  pri- 
vate houses  on  its  side  command'the  grandest  views  of  the 
city,  the  bay,  the  Golden  Gate,  and  the  Mission  Valley. 
Had  the  streets  been  aiTanged  terrace-wise  along  the  hills, 
as  in  Genoa,  they  would  not  only  have  been  more  conve- 
nient, but  far  more  beautiful.  It  is  still  not  too  late  to 
remedy  this  mistake,  in  part. 

The  view  of  San  Francisco,  from  either  Rincon  or  Tele- 
graph Hill,  surpasses — I  say  it  boldly — that  of  any  other  Ame- 
rican city.  It  has  the  noblest  natural  surroundings,  and  will, 
in  the  course  of  time,  become  the  rival  of  Genoa,  or  Naples, 
or  even  Constantinople.  From  the  breezy  lieight  of  Rincon, 
the  whole  town  lies  before  you,  rising  gradually  from  the 
water  to  the  summit  of  the  semi-circular  sweep  of  hills.  Its 
prevailing  colors  are  gray,  white,  yellow,  and  pale  red ; 


NEW   PICTUEES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  46 

while,  at  this  distance,  the  very  confusion  and  incongruity 
of  its  architecture  becomes  an  additional  charm.  Over 
Telegraph  Hill  rise  the  dark-blue  mountains  of  Angel  Island 
and  Sousolito  ;  to  the  right  stretches  the  bay,  with  the 
brown  steeps  of  Yerba  Buena  guarding  the  anchorage ; 
while  beyond  all,  the  mountains  of  Contra  Costa,  bathed  in 
the  loveliest  golden  and  lilac  tints,  melt,  far  to  the  north  and 
south,  into  the  distant  air.  I  have  seen  this  landscape,  Avith 
all  its  grand  features,  of  a  cold,  dark,  indigo  hue,  under 
heavy  clouds — glittering  with  a  gem-like  brilliancy  and  play 
of  color,  under  a  clear  sky,  and  painted — bay,  islands,  and 
shores — with  the  deepest  crimson  of  sunset,  till  you  seemed 
to  look  on  a  world  smouldering  in  the  fires  of  Doom.  It 
was  therefore  no  marvel  to  me,  when  nine  out  often  of  my 
old  acquaintances  said :  "  I  have  made  up  my  mind  to  live 
and  die  here — I  cannot  be  contented  elsewhere.'' 

The  first  thing  Avhich  attracts  the  notice  of  the  stranger 
who  arrives  at  San  Francisco  in  summer,  is  probably  tlie 
last  thing  which  he  would  expect  to  find  in  so  recently-set- 
tled a  country.  The  profusion,  variety,  and  quality  of  the 
fruit  Avhich  he  sees  displayed  on  all  sides  fills  him  with 
astonishment.  What  magic,  he  asks,  has  evoked  from  this 
new  soil  such  horticultural  splendors  ?  What  undiscovered 
nutriment  has  fattened  these  plethoric  apples?  Whence 
did  these  monstrous,  melting  pears  gather  their  juice? 
What  softer  sun  and  sweeter  dew  fed  these  purple  necta- 
rines— these  grapes  of  Eshcol — these  peaches,  figs,  and 
pomegranates  ? 

California,  in  fact,  is  the  Brobdignag  of  the  vegetable 
world.     The   products   of  all  other  lands  arc  Lilliputian 


46  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

compared  with  hers.  Erect  your  ears  and  expand  your 
eyes,  my  reader ;  for  I  am  going  to  tell  the  truth,  and  no- 
thing but  the  truth.  I  forget  the  exact  measurement  of 
the  peaches ;  but  there  are  none  in  the  world  so  large — • 
with,  perhaps,  the  exception  of  those  of  Papigno,  in  the 
Apennines.  The  size,  however,  is  not  procured  at  the 
expense  of  the  flavor.  Excessive  irrigation  of  the  orchards, 
it  is  true,  dilutes  their  rich,  ambrosial  quality ;  but  the 
peaches  of  Marysville  and  the  lower  slopes  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  are  not  a  whit  inferior  to  those  of  New  Jersey  or 
Montreuil.  The  skin  has  a  peculiarity  which  I  have  not 
found  elsewhere.  Delicate  as  the  silky  lining  of  an  egg- 
shell, it  peels  off  at  a  touch ;  and  the  royal  fruit,  with  its 
golden  and  ruby  nerves  laid  bare,  is  flayed  without  a  knife. 
As  you  crush  it  upon  your  tongue,  you  remember  the  am- 
brosial fruits  upon  which,  according  to  Arabic  tradition, 
Adam  was  fed  ;  and  wonder  how  soon  your  breath,  like  his, 
will  be  able  to  turn  the  coarse  growth  of  the  thickets  into 
cinnamon  and  sandal-wood. 

Apples  and  pears  have  been  raised,  weighing  three  pounds 
apiece ;  and  I  have  been  told  of  instances  in  which  the 
fruit  upon  a  tree  weighed  more  than  the  tree  itself.  An 
orchard  begins  to  bear  the  second  year  after  planting  ;  and 
the  grafts  upon  an  old  tree  have  yielded  two  hundred 
pounds'  weight  of  fruit  in  the  same  length  of  time.  I  have 
never  seen  a  single  instance  in  which  the  fruit  was  knotty, 
wormy,  or  otherwise  imperfect.  Nature  seems  to  possess 
not  only  a  fecundity,  but  a  degree  of  health,  unknown  in 
any  other  part  of  the  earth.  In  Santa  Cruz,  a  peach  tree 
two  years  old  produced  two  hundred  pcrkci  peaches.  Apple 


NEAV   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  47 

trees  sometimes  yield  two  crops  in  the  course  of  a  single 
season.  The  extent  to  which  fruit  is  ah-eady  cultivated  in 
California  may  be  inferred  from  the  fact  that  the  peach 
trees  in  the  State  number  2,000,000  ;  apple  trees,  750,000 ; 
and  pear  trees,  100,000.  The  number  of  grape-vines  is 
estimated  at  five  millions,  the  average  yield  of  which  is 
fourteen  pounds  of  grapes  for  each  vine. 

A  few  days  after  our  arrival  at  San  Francisco,  the  annual 
Fair  of  the  Horticultural  Society  was  held.  It  was  a  sin- 
gular collection  of  vegetable  monstrosities.  I  saw,  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life,  cabbage-heads  weighing  between  fifty 
and  sixty  pounds  ;  onions  as  large  as  my  head  ;  and  celery 
that  threatened  to  overtop  corn-stalks  and  sugar-cane. 
Upon  one  table  lay  a  huge,  dark-red  object,  about  the 
thickness  of  my  body.  At  a  distance,  I  took  it  for  the 
trunk  of  some  curious  tree ;  but  on  approaching  nearer,  I 
saw  that  it  was  a  single  beet,  weighing  115  pounds!  The 
seed  was  planted  in  the  spring  of  1858  ;  and  when  taken 
up  in  the  fall  of  that  year,  the  root  weighed  43  j)ounds. 
The  owner,  desiring  to  procure  seed  from  so  fine  a  specimen, 
planted  it  again  last  spring.  But  it  wouldn't  go  to  seed  ! 
It  devoted  all  its  energies  to  growing  bigger  ;  and  here  it 
was,  sound  thi-oughoiit,  and  full  of  a  life  which  seemed 
almost  supernatural.  I  was  glad  to  learn  that  it  was  to  be 
planted  again  the  next  spring,  and  perhaps  the  year  after 
— the  owner  having  declared  that  he  would  keep  on  plant- 
ing it  until  it  reached  a  thousand  pounds,  or  consented  to 
run  to  seed ! 

The  circumstances  under  which  I  visited  San  Francisco 
naturally  procured  for  us  a  very  pleasant  introduction  to 


48  AT    HOME    AIO)    ABROAD. 

its  society.  Besides,  many  of  ray  friends  of  '49  were  still 
residing  there,  no  longer  lonely  and  homeless,  enduring  a 
virtual  exile  for  the  sake  of  speedy  gain,  but  with  their 
families  around  them,  working  with  more  moderation,  and 
finding  a  permanent  and  happy  home  in  the  spot  which 
they  first  looked  iipon  as  a  temporary  stopping-place.  Ac- 
tive as  their  life  is,  it  does  not  wholly  prohibit  a  fair  amount 
of  social  relaxation.  Society  there  is  also  too  new  to  set 
up  exclusive  barriers ;  its  tone  is  liberal  and  metropolitan, 
and  the  mingling  of  so  many  various  elements  relieves  it  of 
that  prim,  respectable  dulness  which  characterizes  some  of 
our  older  cities.  The  society  of  San  Francisco  seems  to 
me  to  be  above  the  usual  average  of  refinement  and  culti- 
vation, which  is  f)artly  owing  to  the  fact  that  the  female 
portion  has  improved  even  more  by  transplantation  than  the 
male. 

As  Ave  in  the  Atlantic  States  often  exaggerate  the  pre- 
vailing fashions  of  Eui'ope,  so  in  California  there  is  a  still 
further  exaggeration.  Nowhere  are  wider  hoops  expanded, 
smaller  bonnets  placed  against  the  head,  or  more  baibanc 
circles  of  gold  attached  to  the  ears.  Nowhere  are  the 
streets  swept  Avith  such  expensive  silks.  Few  of  the  dwell- 
ing-houses, as  yet,  admit  of  very  luxurious  entertainments, 
but  it  is  easy  to  foresee  that  this  additional  field  of  expen- 
diture will  ere  long  be  opened.  Where  there  is  so  much 
female  beauty,  and  where  so  many  of  the  gentlemen  have 
unlearned  habits  of  close  economy,  luxury  is  the  natural 
result.  Why,  even  servant-girls  in  California  dress  in  silk, 
and  wear  twenty-dollar  bonnets  ! 

I  had  the  best  opportunity  for  judging  of  the  average 


NEW   PICTUEES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  49. 

cultivation  of  the  San  Franciscans.  A  lecturer  sees  people 
collectively^  as  well  as  individually,  and  takes  their  intellec- 
tual measure  by  the  impressions  which  come  to  him  in  a 
single  hour — nor  are  such  rapid  conclusions  as  he  draws 
generally  far  from  the  truth.  Holmes  says  that  a  popular 
lecture  should  contain  nothing  which  five  hundred  people 
cannot  understand  and  appreciate  at  the  same  instant : 
therefore,  when  a  lecturer  finds  that  five  hundred  out  of  a 
thousand  are  following  him  closely,  treading  securely  and 
evenly  in  the  tracks  of  his  thought,  he  may  be  sure  that 
their  mental  calibre  is  at  least  equal  to  the  bore  and  range 
of  his  own  mind.  In  San  Francisco,  lectures  (at  least  spe- 
cial importations  for  that  object)  were  new :  curiosity  no 
doubt  contributed  to  the  success  of  the  experiment,  but  it 
was  none  the  less  a  test  of  the  cultivation  of  the  audience. 
The  impression  made  upon  me  was  precisely  similar  to 
that  produced  in  Boston,  At  first,  there  was  the  usual 
amount  of  curiosity,  followed  by  an  uncertain  silence  and 
impassiveness.  Judgment  was  held  in  abeyance ;  each 
depended  a  little  on  the  verdict  pronounced  by  others,  but 
all  at  last  silently  coalesced  unto  a  mutual  understanding, 
and  were  thenceforth  steadily  attentive,  critical,  and  appre- 
ciative. These  phases  of  the  mind  of  an  audience  are  not 
betrayed  by  any  open  demonstration.  They  communicate 
themselves  to  the  mind  of  the  lecturer  by  a  subtle  mag- 
netism which  he  cannot  explain,  yet  the  truth  of  which  is 
positive  to  his  mind.  I  am  sometimes  inclined  to  think 
that  there  is  as  distinct  an  individuality  in  audiences  as  there 
is  in  single  persons.  The  speaker,  after  a  little  practice,  is 
able  to  guess  the  average  capacity  as  well  as  the  average 

3 


50  AT    II03IE    AXD    ABROAD. 

cultivation  of  those  whom  he  addresses.  Thus,  notwith- 
standing the  heterogeneous  character  of  the  population  of 
California,  the  companies  to  whom  I  lectured  made  no 
divided  impression  upon  me ;  each  community,  new  as  it 
was,  had  already  its  collective  character. 


2. — The  Valley  of  San  Jose. 

Having  made  arrangements  to  give  two  lecture's  in  San 
Jose,  I  availed  myself  of  the  kind  offer  of  Mr.  Haight,  of 
the  Mercantile  Library  of  San  Francisco,  Avho  proposed 
conveying  us  thither  in  his  carriage.  The  distance  is  fifty- 
one  miles — San  Jose  lying  in  the  mouth  of  the  celebrated 
valley  of  the  same  name,  which  stretches  southward  for 
forty  miles  between  the  two  ranges  of  the  Coast  Mountains 
— having  once  been,  from  all  appearance,  a  portion  of  San 
Francisco  Bay.  I  had  been  over  the  road  four  times  in 
1849 — once  on  foot,  once  in  a  cart,  and  twice  on  muleback 
— and  flattered  myself  that  I  was  thoroughly  familiar  with 
the  country  ;  but  I  soon  found  I  knew  very  little  about  it. 
The  difference  between  a  trail  through  a  wilderness  and 
a  fenced-in  road,  with  bridges,  taverns,  incipient  villages 
even,  scattered  along  it,  was  greater  than  I  had  imagined. 

"  Where  are  the  nine-league  ranches  of  the  native  Cali- 
fornians  ?"  I  asked. 

"They  have  been  swindled  out  of  them." 

"  Where  are  the  grizzly  bears  and  coyotes  ?" 

"  They  have  been  killed  off." 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORXIA.  51 

"  Where  are  the  endless  herds  of  cattle  ?" 
"  Butchered  for  the  San  Francisco  market." 
"  Who  cut  down  the  magnificent  trees  that  once  stood 
here  ?'♦ 

"  The  Pikes." 

Here  I  must  make  an  explanation.  A  "Pike,"  iu  the 
California  dialect,  is  a  native  of  Missouri,  Arkansas,  North- 
ern Texas,  or  Southern  Illinois.  The  first  emigrants  that 
came  over  the  plains  were  from  Pike  county,  Missouri ; 
but  as  the  phrase,  "a  Pike  county  man,"  was  altogether 
too  long  for  this  short  life  of  ours,  it  was  soon  abbreviated 
into  "  a  Pike."  Besides,  the  emigrants  from  the  afore- 
mentioned localities  belonged  evidently  to  the  same  genus, 
and  the  epithet  "  Western"  was  by  no  means  sufiiciently 
descriptive.  The  New  England  type  is  reproduced  in 
Michigan  and  Wisconsin ;  the  New  York,  in  Northern 
Illinois ;  the  Pennsylvania,  in  Ohio  ;  the  Virginia,  in  Ken- 
tucky ;  but  the  Pike  is  a  creature  difierent  from  all  these. 
He  is  the  Anglo-Saxon  relapsed  into  semi-barbarism.  He 
is  long,  lathy,  and  sallow ;  he  expectorates  vehemently ; 
he  takes  naturally  to  whisky  ;  he  has  the  "  shakes"  his  life 
long  at  home,  though  he  generally  manages  to  get  rid  of 
them  in  California ;  he  has  little  respect  for  the  rights  of 
others  ;  he  distrusts  men  in  "  store  clothes,"  but  venerates 
the  memory  of  Andrew  Jackson  ;  finally,  he  has  an  impla- 
cable dislike  to  trees.  Girdling  is  his  favorite  mode  of 
exterminating  them;  but  he  sometimes  contents  himself 
with  cutting  off  the  largest  and  handsomest  limbs.  When 
he  spares  one,  for  the  sake  of  a  little  shade  near  his  house, 
he  whitewashes  the  trunk. 


62  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

In  all  parts  of  California  you  now  find  the  Pike.  In  the 
valleys  of  San  Jos6,  Napa,  and  Russian  River,  he  has 
secured  much  of  the  finest  land.  But  some  of  his  original 
characteristics  disappear,  after  he  has  been  transplanted  for 
a  few  years.  He  wears  a  tan-colored  wide-awake ;  sits  in 
a  Mexican  saddle ;  becomes  full  and  ruddy,  instead  of  lank 
and  sallow ;  and  loses  his  chronic  bitterness  of  spirit  as  "  the 
shakes"  cease  to  torment  him.  If  he  would  but  pay  a  little 
more  attention  to  the  education  of  his  children,  the  young 
Pikes,  or  Pickerels,  might  grow  up  without  those  qualities 
Avhich  have  made  their  parents  rather  unpopular.  The 
name  "  Pike  "  is  a  reproach — a  disparagement,  at  least — 
in  most  parts  of  California. 

Following  the  new  turnpike  until  we  had  passed  the  San 
Bruno  Mountain,  we  came  upon  the  rich  level  country 
beyond,  as  the  sun,  driving  the  dull  fog-clouds  seaward 
before  him,  brought  warmth  to  the  air  and  color  to  the 
landscape.  On  one  side  were  salt  marshes,  whereon  hun- 
dreds of  cattle  were  grazing;  on  the  other,  white  farm- 
houses, nestled  in  live-oak  groves,  at  the  bases  of  the  yellow 
hills.  I  looked  eagerly  for  the  ranche  of  Sanchez,  where  I 
had  twice  passed  a  night ;  but,  though  our  road  led  us 
directly  past  the  house,  I  failed  to  recognise  it.  The  mud- 
colored  adobe  hut,  with  its  tiled  roof,  had  been  transformed 
into  a  white  building,  with  shining  roof  and  a  broad  veranda. 
All  the  surroundings  were  changed  ;  other  buildings  had 
sprung  up  in  the  neighborhood  ;  and  the  very  face  of  the 
landscape  seemed  no  longer  the  same. 

I  noticed  with  pleasure  that  the  settlers  had  generally 
selected  the  sites  of  their  houses  with  good  taste,  building 


KEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  53 

them  in  the  midst  of  the  superb  natural  parks,  which  were 
not  always  wantonly  hewed  away.  The  architecture,  also, 
was  well  adapted  to  the  country  and  climate — simple  forms, 
roofs  flatter  than  usual,  and  always  spacious  verandas, 
sometimes  encircling  the  whole  house.  As  there  is  no  snow, 
and  but  little  frost  (the  thermometer  never  falling  below 
20°),  both  paint  and  stucco  are  very  durable;  and  the 
cheerful,  airy  architecture  of  Southern  Europe  will,  in  the 
end,  be  preferred  to  any  other.  "What  a  country  this  wnll 
be,  when  stately  mansions,  adorned  with  art  and  taste, 
replace  the  first  rude  dwellings,  and  the  noble  parks  sur- 
round the  homes  for  which  they  have  waited  thousands  of 
years ! 

To  me,  there  is  no  delight  of  the  senses  quite  equal  to 
that  of  inhaling  the  fragrance  of  the  wild  California  herb — 
the  "  yerba  buena  "  of  the  Spaniards,  the  "  tar  weed  "  of 
the  Pikes.  It  is  a  whitish,  woolly  plant,  resembling  life- 
everlasting,  and  exudes,  when  mature,  a  thick  aromatic 
gum.  For  leagues  on  leagues  the  air  is  flavored  with  it — 
a  rich,  powerful,  balsamic  smell,  almost  a  taste^  which  seems 
to  dilate  the  lungs  like  mild  ether.  To  inhale  such  an  air 
is  perfect  ecstasy.  It  does  not  cloy,  like  other  odors  ;  but 
strengthens  with  a  richer  tonic  than  the  breath  of  budding 
pines.  If  Life  had  a  characteristic  scent,  this  would  be  it : 
that  a  man  should  die  while  breathing  it,  seems  incredible, 
A  lady  with  weak  nerves  informed  me  that  it  made  her  sick 
— but  some  persons  "  die  of  a  rose,  in  aromatic  pain."  To 
me,  it  stirs  the  blood  like  a  trumpet,  and  makes  the  loftiest 
inspiration  easy.  I  write  poems,  I  paint  pictures,  I  carve 
statues,  I  create  history.     If  I  should  live  to  be  old,  and  feel 


54  AT    HOME   AND    ABUOAD. 

my  faculties  failing,  I  shall  go  back  to  restore  the  sensations 
of  youth  in  that  wonderful  air.   ■ 

After  a  ride  of  twenty  miles,  we  passed  some  noble 
ranches  of  2,000  acres  each,  and  approached  San  Mateo. 
The  deep,  dry  bed  of  the  creek,  shaded  with  enormous  bay- 
trees,  chestnuts,  and  sycamores,  was  fresh  in  my  recollec- 
tion. The  glorious  trees  were  still  standing  ;  but  among 
them,  on  the  right,  rose  a  beautiful  Gothic  residence  ;  and 
after  we  had  crossed  the  arroyo  on  a  wooden  bridge,  we 
drew  up  at  a  handsome  hotel  on  the  left.  Everywhere, 
neatness,  comfort,  and  a  profusion  of  shrubs,  flowers,  and 
vines.  Opposite  the  hotel  was  the  country  residence  of 
Captain  Macondray,  my  fellow-passenger  ten  years  ago — 
now  one  of  the  oldest  inhabitants,  happy  in  a  success  which 
he  has  wholly  deserved.  As  we  reached  the  house,  through 
a  lawn  dotted  with  glittering  bays  and  live-oaks,  the  cap- 
tain came  Out  to  welcome  us  ;  and  I  could  not  refrain  from 
expressing  my  delight  that  San  Mateo  had  fallen  into  hands 
which  will  protect  its  beauty. 

Our  walk  through  the  garden  was  marked  by  a  succes- 
sion of  exclamations.  Such  peaches,  such  pears,  such  apples 
and  figs !  What  magic  is  there  in  this  virgin  soil  ?  The 
wild  crab  is  as  far  behind  the  products  of  our  Atlantic 
orchards,  as  are  the  latter  behind  the  fruit  that  we  saw. 
Colossal,  splendidly  colored,  overflowing  with  delicious 
juice,  without  a  faulty  specimen  anywhere,  it  was  truly 
the  perfection  of  horticulture.  In  a  glass-house  (necessary 
only  to  keep  off  the  cool  afternoon  winds)  we  found  the 
black  Hamburg,  the  Muscatel,  and  other  delicate  grapes, 
laden  from  root  to  tip  with  clusters  from  one  to  two  feet  in 


NEW    PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  55 

length.  The  heaps  of  rich  color  and  perfume,  on  the  table 
to  which  we  were  summoned,  were  no  less  a  feast  to  the 
eye  than  to  the  palate. 

Continuing  our  journey,  we  bowled  along  merrily  over 
the  smooth,  hard  road,  and  presently,  Redwood  City,  the 
county-seat,  came  in  sight.  Ten  miles  ahead,  towered  the 
solitary  redwood,  two  hundred  feet  in  height — the  old 
landmark  of  the  valley.  The  town  numbers  perhaps  four 
or  five  hundred  inhabitants,  having  grown  up  within  the 
last  four  or  five  years.  Beyond  this,  the  quality  of  the  soil 
deteriorates  somewhat ;  the  sea  winds,  sweeping  over  gaps 
in  the  coast-range,  giving  a  rawness  to  the  air,  and  fringing 
every  branch  of  the  oaks  with  long  streamers  of  gray  moss. 
This  part  of  the  road  would  have  been  monotonous,  but  for 
the  magnificent  frame  of  mountains  which  inclosed  it.  The 
bay,  on  our  left,  diminished  to  a  narrow  sheet  of  silvery 
water,  and  the  ranges  on  either  hand  gradually  approached 
each  other,  their  golden  sides  no  longer  bare,  but  feathered 
with  noble  groves  of  oak  and  redwood.  All  along  this 
Jornada  of  twenty  miles  without  water — as  it  was  ten  years 
ago — farm  now  succeeds  to  farm,  the  whirling  wind-mill 
beside  every  house,  pumping  up  orchards,  and  gardens  to 
beautify  the  waste. 

After  crossing  San  Francisquito  Creek,  finding  our  appe- 
tites waxing  in  the  keen  air,  we  looked  out  for  a  tavern. 
The  first  sign  we  saw  was  "  Uncle  Jim's,"  which  was  enti- 
cingly familiar,  although  the  place  had  an  air  of  "  Pike." 
Our  uncle  was  absent,  arid  there  were  actuall}""  four  loafers 
in  the  bar-room.  That  men  with  energy  enough  to  cross 
the  Plains,  should  "  loaf,"  in  a  country  ten  years  old,  is  a 


56  AT   HOME    AXD    ABROAD. 

thing  which  I  would  not  have  believed  if  I  had  not  seen  it. 
The  house  betrayed  its  antiquity  by  the  style  of  its  con- 
struction. Instead  of  being  lathed  and  plastered,  the  walls 
and  ceilings  were  composed  of  coarse  white  muslin,  nailed 
upon  the  studs  and  joists.  This  is  the  cheap,  early  method 
of  building  in  California,  and  insures  sufficient  privacy  to 
the  eye,  though  none  at  all  to  the  ear.  Every  room  is  a 
Cave  of  Dionysius.  Whatever  is  whispered  in  the  garret, 
is  distinctly  heard  in  the  cellar.  There  can  be  no  family 
feuds  in  such  a  house ;  Mrs.  Caudle  might  as  well  give  her 
lectures  in  public. 

A  further  drive  of  ten  miles,  brought  us  to  Santa  Clara. 
The  old  Jesuit  Mission,  with  its  long  adobe  walls,  tiled 
roof,  quaint  Spanish  church,  and  orchards  hedged  with  the 
fruitbearing  cactus,  were  the  same  as  ever ;  but  beyond 
them,  on  all  sides,  extended  a  checkerwork  of  new  streets 
— brick  stores,  churches,  smiling  cottages,  in  the  midst  of 
gardens  and  orchards,  which  seemed  unnaturally  preco- 
cious. Here  both  the  Catholics  and  Methodists  have  large 
and  flourishing  schools. 

The  valley,  bathed  in  sunset,  lay  before  us,  calm  and 
peaceful  as  Eden.  The  old  avenue  of  trees  still  connects 
Santa  Clara  with  San  Jose ;  but  as  we  drove  along  it,  I 
looked  in  vain  for  the  open  plain,  covered  with  its  giant 
growth  of  wild  mustard.  The  town  now  lies  imbedded  in 
orchards,  over  whose  low  level  green  rise  the  majestic 
forms  of  the  sycamores,  which  mark  the  course  of  the 
stream.  As  the  eastern  mountains  burned  with  a  deep 
rose-color,  in  the  last  rays  of  the  sun,  the  valley  strikingly 
reminded  me  of  the  Plain  of  Damascus  ;  color,  atmosphere. 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  57 

and  vegetation  were  precisely  the  same — not  less,  but  even 
more  lovely.  But  in  place  of  snowy  minarets,  and  flat 
oriental  domes,  there  were  red  brick  masses,  mills,  and 
clumsy  spires,  which  (the  last)  seemed  not  only  occidental, 
but  accidental,  so  little  had  they  to  do  with  architectural 
rules. 

San  Jose,  nevertheless,  is  a  very  beautiful  little  town. 
Many  of  the  dwellings  recently  erected  are  exceedingly 
elegant,  and  its  gardens  promise  to  be  unsurpassed.  Its 
growth  has  been  slow  (the  population,  at  present,  not 
exceeding  twenty-five  hundred),  but  it  has  scarcely  reco- 
vered from  the  misfortune  of  having  been  the  State  capital. 
The  valley  in  which  it  lies  is  one  of  the  most  favored  spots 
in  the  world,  in  point  of  fertility,  salubrity  of  climate,  and 
natural  beauty.  When  the  great  ranches  are  properly 
subdivided,  as  they  will  be  in  time,  and  thousands  live 
wljere  units  are  now  living,  there  will  be  no  more  desirable 
l^lace  of  residence  anywhere  on  the  Pacific  coast. 

What  a  day  was  that  which  succeeded  our  arrival !  As 
Howadji  Curtis  says  :  "  Opals  and  turquoises  are  the  earth's 
efforts  to  remember  a  sky  so  fair.''  As  soon  as  the  last 
fringe  of  fog  disappeared,  and  the  valley  smiled  in  cloud- 
less sunshine,  we  twain,  seated  in  a  light  buggy,  behind  an 
enthusiastic  horse,  set  out  for  the  mines  of  New  Almaden. 
Our  road  led  southward,  up  the  valley.  Near  the  town, 
the  soil,  baked  by  four  months  of  uninterrupted  sun,  and 
pulverized  by  thousands  of  wheels,  was  impalpable  dust 
for  six  inches  deep ;  but  the  breeze  blew  it  behind  us,  until 
some  eddy  caught  and  whirled  it  into  slender,  smoky 
pillars,  moving  across  the  yellow  stubble-fields  until  they 

3* 


58  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

dissolved.  After  three  or  four  miles,  however,  the  road 
became  firm,  and  gloriously  smooth ;  and  the  ambrosial 
herb,  which  had  been  driven  back  by  gardens  and  orchards, 
poured  its  intoxicating  breath  on  the  air. 

Now,  how  shall  I  describe  a  landscape  so  unlike  anything 
else  in  the  world — with  a  beauty  so  new  and  dazzling  that 
all  ordinary  comparisons  are  worthless?  A  valley  ten 
miles  wide,  through  the  centre  of  which  winds  the  dry  bed 
of  a  winter  stream,  whose  course  is  marked  with  groups 
of  giant  sycamores,  their  trunks  gleaming  like  silver 
through  masses  of  glossy  foliage :  over  the  level  floor  of 
this  valley  park-like  groves  of  oaks,  whose  mingled  grace 
and  majesty  can  only  be  given  by  the  pencil :  in  the  distance, 
redwoods  rising  like  towers  ;  westward,  a  mountain-chain, 
nearly  four  thousand  feet  in  height — showing,  through  the 
blue  haze,  dark-green  forests  on  a  background  of  blazing 
gold  :  eastward,  another  mountain-chain,  full-lighted  by  the 
sun — rose-color,  touched  with  violet  shadows,  shining  Avith 
a  marvellous  transparency,  as  if  they  were  of  glass,  behind 
which  shone  another  sun :  overhead,  finally,  a  sky  whose 
blue  lustre  seemed  to  fall,  mellowed,  through  an  interven- 
ing veil  of  luminous  vapor.  No  words  can  describe  the 
fire  and  force  of  the  coloring — the  daring  contrasts,  which 
the  difierence  of  half  a  tint  changed  from  discord  into  har- 
mony. Here  the  Great  Artist  seems  to  have  taken  a  new 
palette,  and  painted  his  creation  with  hues  unknown  else- 
where. 

Driving  along  through  these  enchanting  scenes,  I  indulged 
in  a  day-dream.  It  will  not  be  long,  I  thought — I  may 
live  to  see  it  before  my  prime  of  life  is  over — until  San 


"    NEW   PICTUKES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  59 

Jose  is  but  a  five-days'  journey  from  New  York.  Cars 
which  shall  be,  in  fact,  travelling-hotels,  will  speed  on  an 
unbroken  line  of  rail  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Pacific. 
Then.,  let  me  purchase  a  few  acres  on  the  lowest  slope  of 
these  mountains,  overlooking  the  valley,  and  with  a  distant 
gleam  of  the  bay :  let  me  build  a  cottage,  embowered  in 
acacia  and  eucalyptus,  and  the  tall  spires  of  the  Italian 
cypress :  let  me  leave  home  when  the  Christmas  holidays  are 
over,  and  enjoy  the  balmy  Januaries  and  Februaries,  the 
heavenly  Marches  and  Aprils  of  my  remaining  years  here, 
returning  only  when  May  shall  have  brought  beauty  to  the 
Atlantic  shore !  There  shall  my  roses  out-bloom  those  of 
Paestum :  there  shall  my  nightingales  sing,  my  orange- 
blossoms  sweeten  the  air,  my  children  play,  and  my  best 
poems  be  written  ! 

I  had  another  and  a  grander  dream.  A  hundred  years 
had  passed,  and  I  saw  the  valley,  not,  as  now,  only  pai-tially 
tamed  and  revelling  in  the  wild  magnificence  of  Nature, 
but  from  river-bed  to  mountain-summit  humming  with 
human  life.  I  saw  the  same  oaks  and:  sycamores,  but  their 
shadows  fell  on  mansions  which  were  fair  as  temples,  with 
their  white  fronts  and  long  colonnades :  I  saw  gardens, 
refreshed  by  gleaming  fountains — statues  peeping  from  the 
gloom  of  laurel  bowers — palaces,  built  to  enshrine  the  new 
Art  which  will  then  have  blossomed  here — culture,  plenty, 
peace,  happiness  everywhei*e.  I  saAV  a  more  beautiful  race 
in  possession  of  this  paradise — a  race  in  which  the  lost 
symmetry  and  grace  of  the  Greek  was  partially  restored — 
the  rough,  harsh  features  of  the  original  type  gone — milder 
manners,  better-regulated  impulses,  and  a  keener  apprecia- 


60  AT    HOME    AND    ABKOAD. 

tion  of  all  the  arts  which  enrich  and  embellish  life.  Was 
it  only  a  dream  ? 

After  a  drive  of  ten  miles,  Ave  drew  near  the  base  of  the 
western  mountains,  and  entered  a  wilder,  but  not  less 
beautiful  region.  The  road  led  through  a  succession  of 
open,  softly-rounded  hills,  among  which  the  first  settlers 
were  building  their  shanties.  The  only  persons  we  met 
were  Mexicans,  driving  carts,  who  answered  my  questions 
in  Spanish.  Three  miles  further,  a  deep,  abrupt  glen 
opened  on  our  right.  The  hot,  yellow  mountain-sides  shut 
out  the  breeze,  and  the  sun  shone  fiercely  upon  the  deep, 
dazzling  green  of  the  trees  which  overhung  a  little  brook 
below  us.  Presently  we  reached  a  large,  white  mansion, 
surrounded  by  a  garden  of  fig,  peach,  and  pomegranate 
trees.  A  uniform  row  of  neat  wooden  cottages  followed ; 
and  beyond  them,  on  an  open  space,  rose  the  tall,  black 
chimneys  of  the  smelting-furnaces.  This  was  New 
Almaden. 

At  a  small,  but  comfortable,  tavern  we  obtained  dinner. 
The  host,  a  perfect  specimen  of  sunburnt  health  and 
natural  politeness,  afterwards  showed  us  the  soda  spring  and 
the  smelting-houses.  The  mines  of  cinnabar  are  two  miles 
off,  near  the  top  of  the  mountain,  and  thirteen  hundred 
and  fifty  feet  above  the  sea.  As  they  were  then  under 
litigation,  instituted  by  the  United  States  government,  all 
labor  had  been  suspended.  The  principal  adit  is  four 
thousand  feet  in  length — the  ore  being  found  in  detached 
masses.  The  average  annual  production  is  something  over 
a  million  of  pounds,  which  is  obtained  at  an  expense  of 
^280,000,  and  yields  a  profit  considerably   greater.    The 


NEW   PICTUKES   FKOM   CALIFOKNIA.  61 

process  of  smelting  is  very  simple,  the  mercury  being 
detached  from  the  cinnabar  by  heat,  and  afterwards  col- 
lected by  condensation.  Below  the  condensing  chambers 
are  huge  bowls,  some  of  which  were  still  partially  filled 
with  the  metallic  fluid.  It  was  a  curious  sensation  to  set 
your  foot  into  the  cold,  slippery  mass,  which,  as  if  disdaining 
such  treatment,  rolls  off,  leaving  your  boot  im soiled.  Huge 
heaps  of  cinnabar,  of  a  rich  dark-vermilion  color,  lay  idly 
beside  the  furnaces.  Some  specimens,  which  I  ventured  to 
carry  away,  contained  seventy-five  per  cent,  of  quicksilver. 
Before  leaving  San  Jose,  I  visited  two  or  three  of  the 
pleasant  private  residences,  which,  with  their  gardens  and 
orchards,  adorn  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  It  seems  really 
incredible  that  ten  years  could  work  such  a  marvellous 
change.  Instead  of  a  bare,  open  plain,  there  were  groves 
and  bowers — streets  lined  with  rows  of  trees,  and  houses 
hidden  in  foliage  and  blossoms.  Fig-trees,  laden  with 
their  second  crop  of  fruit,  encircled  the  fountain-basins; 
rustic  summer-houses,  overgrown  with  fuchsia,  passion- 
flower, and  the  Australian  pea,  rose  out  of  thickets  of 
acacia,  laurel,  and  the  African  tamarack,  with  its  thin, 
thready  foliage ;  and  with  the  simple  protection  of  glass, 
the  orange  and  banana  flourished  as  in  the  Tropics.  A 
cluster  of  cottonwoods,  planted  eight  years  ago,  were 
alread}'  fifty  feet  high,  with  trunks  fifteen  inches  in  diame- 
ter !  Here,  old  proverbs  fail.  A  man  does  not  plant  an 
orchard,  that  his  grandchildren  may  have  fruit,  or  a  tree, 
that  his  sons  may  sit  beneath  its  shade  :  if  he  can  count  on 
five  more  years  of  life  for  himself,  he  does  these  things  foi 
his  own  sake. 


62  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD 

Now,  I  ask,  where  Nature  does  so  much,  should  we  not 
expect  proportionably  more  from  Man  f  The  Californians 
have  labored  well,  it  is  true,  but  not  so  much  as  they  might 
have  done.  I  am  not  going  to  flatter  them  with  unmingled 
praise.  Coming  from  such  a  stock,  carrying  the  habits, 
tastes,  and  ideas  of  the  older  States  with  them,  they  could 
not  have  accomplished  less,  without  exhibiting  a  deteriorar 
tion  in  character.  The  material  progress  of  the  State  is 
not  so  much  to  be  wondered  at,  when  we  consider  that 
every  improvement  either  pays^  or  is  expected  to  pay. 
There  are  fine  roads  constructed  at  great  expense,  all 
thi'ough  the  mining  districts — but  ask  the  teamsters  how 
much  toll  they  pay.  There  are  good  bridges  everywhere 
— your  purse  acknowledges  the  fact,  as  well  as  your  eyes. 
But  there  is,  as  yet,  no  thorough  geological  survey  of  the 
State :  the  Common  School  system  is  far  less  generally 
established  than  it  should  be :  and  the  population  are  too 
bent  upon  money-making  to  insist  on  the  proper  adminis- 
tration of  the  laws,  which,  except  in  San  Francisco,  are  as 
loosely  and  carelessly  regarded  as  in — New  York  City. 
The  energy  of  Selfishness  has  worked  wonders — but  it  takes 
something  more  to  make  a  State  great,  wise,  and  happy. 

We  detemained  to  return  to  San  Francisco  up  the  east- 
ern shore,  through  Alameda  County,  thus  making  the 
circuit  of  the  bay.  The  distance  to  San  Antonio  near 
Oakland,  is  about  forty  miles ;  the  fare,  if  you  take  a  team 
at  a  livery-stable,  is  twenty-five  dollars — by  the  stage,  it  is 
one  dollar.  The  difference  would  buy  an  acre  of  land  :  so 
we  took  the  stage.  To  avoid  the  dust,  as  well  as  the 
rough   crowd  of  French  laborers.  Chinamen,  and   Pikes 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  63 

inside,  my  wife  and  I  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  Concord 
coach,  and  established  ourselves  behind  the  driver.  The 
morning  was  overcast  and  raw :  the  mountains  were  drab 
instead  of  golden,  and  the  bay  indigo,  instead  of  purple. 
To  conciliate  the  driver,  I  presented  him  with  a  cigar, 
accompanied  with  a  remark.  He  had  a  full,  handsome 
face,  a  military  moustache,  and  a  rough  courtesy  in  his 
manners,  emphasized  with  profane  words.  I  should  never 
have  suspected  him  of  being  a  "Pike,"  if  he  had  not 
admitted  it.  He  had  been  in  the  country  nine  years ; 
weighed  one  hundred  and  twenty-seven  pounds  when  he 
came  ;  now  weighed  one  hundred  and  ninety  ;  used  to  be 
sick  all  the  time  at  home  ;  had  the  shakes — had  'em  had ; 
never  had  'em  now ;  was  afraid  to  go  home,  for  fear  he 
should  git  'em  again.  Knowed  all  about  horses  ;  druv  'em 
so's  to  go  fast,  and  so's  not  to  hurt  'em   nuther.     Some 

drivers  upsot  the  stage,  goin'  over  side-hills ;  if 

he  did  ;  passengers  might  swear  'cause  he  went  slow ;  lie 
knowed  what  he  was  about — he  did.  All  which  latter 
statements  proved  to  be  perfectly  true.  He  was  an  honest, 
careful,  skilful  fellow  ;  and  we  enjoyed  the  journey  all  the 
more,  from  our  confidence  in  him. 

For  some  ten  miles  our  road  led  over  the  level  floor  of 
the  valley.  The  land  here  appeared  to  be  tolerably  well 
divided  into  farms,  the  fields  fenced  with  redwood,  regard- 
less of  expense,  and  the  most  superb  orchards  and  vine- 
yards springing  up  everywhere,  I  was  glad  to  see  that 
the  fences  were  all  substantial  post-and-rail — none  of  those 
hideous  "  worm-fences"  which  are  so  common  in  the  Middle 
and  Western  States,     Redwood  timber  has  a  great  dura- 


64  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

bility  in  a  moist  soil,  though  it  is  liable  to  dry-rot  else- 
where. Col.  Fremont  saw  a  redwood  post  at  the  Mission 
of  Dolores,  which  had  been  in  the  ground  seventy-five 
years,  and  had  only  rotted  to  the  depth  of  half  an  inch. 
Nearly  all  the  frame  houses  are  built  of  this  timber,  and  I 
never  saw  without  pain  its  rich,  beautiful  natural  color — 
intermediate  between  that  of  mahogany  and  black  walnut 
— hidden  under  a  coat  of  paint.  If  it  could  be  preserved  by 
oil,  or  a  transparent  varnish,  nothing  could  be  more  elegant. 

We  were  obliged  to  stop  at  Wai'm  Spring  (which  lies 
off  the  road)  on  account  of  the  mail.  As  we  slowly 
climbed  the  glen,  the  national  flag,  flying  from  a  flag-staff 
which  towered  above  a  clump  of  sycamores  and  live-oaks, 
announced  the  site  of  the  hotel.  Here  was  truly  a  pleas- 
ant retreat.  A  two-story  frame  building,  with  a  shady 
veranda,  opening  upon  a  garden  of  flowers,  in  the  midst 
of  which  the  misty  jet  of  a  fountain  fluttered  in  the  wind, 
vineyards  in  the  rear,  and  the  lofty  mountain  over  all. 
There  must  be  leisure  already  in  this  new  world  of  work, 
when  such  places  exist. 

Three  miles  further,  up  and  down,  crossing  the  bases  of 
the  hills,  brought  us  to  the  Mission  of  San  Jose.  I  found 
the  old  Mission  intact,  but  a  thriving  village  had  sprung 
up  around  it.  Its  former  peaceful  seclusion  has  gone  for 
ever:  a  few  natives,  with  their  sarapes  and  jingling  spurs, 
lounge  in  the  tiled  corridors ;  while,  in  bar-rooms  opposite, 
the  new  owners  of  the  land  drink  bad  liquors  and  chew 
abominable  tobacco.  The  old  garden  on  the  hill  has  passed 
into  the  hands  of  speculators,  and  its  w^ealth  of  figs,  pears, 
and  melons  is  now  shipped  to  San  Francisco. 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  65 

Here  I  left  my  trail  of  1819,  which  turned  eastward, 
over  the  mountains,  while  our  road  kept  along  their  base, 
northward.  As  the  sun  came  out,  the  huge  stacks  of 
sheaves,  in  the  centre  of  the  immense  wheat-fields,  flashed 
like  perfect  gold.  I  have  never  seen  grain  so  clean,  so 
pure  and  bx-illiant  in  color.  If  the  sheaves  had  been  washed 
with  soap-suds  and  then  varnished,  they  could  not  have 
been  more  resplendent.  The  eastern  shore  of  the  bay  is 
certainly  more  fertile  than  the  western,  and  richer  in  arable 
land,  though  it  has  less  timber  and  less  landscape  beauty. 
The  land  appears  to  be  all  claimed  (generally  in  despite  of 
the  original  proprietors)  and  nearly  all  settled. 

We  now  saw  the  dark  line  of  the  Encinal,  in  front,  and 
sped  onward  through  clouds  of  black  dust  to  San  Antonio, 
which  we  reached  at  noon.  An  old  friend  was  in  waiting, 
to  convey  us  to  his  home  in  the  village  of  Alameda,  two 
miles  distant.  We  here  saw  more  of  the  wonders  of 
horticulture — ^but  I  am  really  tired  of  repealing  statements 
80  difficult  of  belief,  and  will  desist.  We  spent  the  aftei-- 
noon  under  his  live-oaks,  bathed  in  the  aroma  of  giant 
pears  and  nectarines,  and  in  the  evening  returned  to  San 
Francisco. 


3. A   JOUKNEY  TO   THE   GeTSEES. 

A  WEEK  later,  we  left  San  Francisco  in  a  little  steamer, 
for  Petaluma.  I  had  made  arrangements  to  lecture  there 
on  Saturday  evening,  and  in  Xapa  City  on  Monday  eve- 
ning ;  and  determined  to  accomplish  a  visit  to  the  Geysers, 


66  AT   HOME   AND    ABKOAD. 

in  the  intervening  time,  although  most  of  my  friends  pro- 
nounced the  thing  impossible.  Yet,  at  the  same  time, 
they  all  said :  "  You  must  not  think  of  leaving  California 
without  seeing  the  Geysers" — those  who  had  never  been 
there  being,  as  usual,  most  earnest  in  their  recommenda- 
tions. It  was  all  new  ground  to  me,  as  I  had  seen  literally 
nothing  of  the  north  side  of  the  bay  during  my  first  visit. 

Petaluma  is  the  westernmost  of  three  valleys  which, 
divided  by  parallel  spurs  of  the  Coast  Range,  open  upon 
the  north  side  of  San  Pablo  Bay.  It  communicates,  with 
scarce  an  intervening  "divide,"  with  the  rich  and  spa- 
cious valley  of  Russian  River — a  stream  which  enters  the 
Pacific  at  Bodega,  some  twenty  miles  north  of  the  Golden 
Gate,  where  the  Russians  once  made  a  settlement.  It  is 
thus,  virtually,  the  outlet  of  this  valley  to  the  Bay  of  San 
Francisco  ;  and  the  town  of  Petaluma,  at  the  head  of 
navigation,  bids  fair  to  become  a  place  of  some  importance. 
In  1849,  the  valley  was  an  Indian  ranche,  belonging  to  one 
of  the  brothers  Vallejo ;  and  the  adobe  fort,  built  for 
protection  against  the  native  tribes,  is  still  standing.  At 
present,  there  is  a  daily  line  of  steamers  thither — a  fact 
which  shows  that  the  progress  of  California  is  not  restricted 
to  the  gold-bearing  regions. 

We  passed  close  under  the  steep  mountain-sides  of 
Angel  Island.  At  the  base,  there  are  quarries  of  very 
tolerable  building-stone,  which  are  extensively  worked. 
Across  a  narrow  strait  lay  Sousolito,  overhung  by  dark 
mountains.  Here  there  is  a  little  settlement,  whence  is 
brought  the  best  supply  of  drinking-water  for  San  Fran- 
cisco.    An  hour  more  brought  us  to  Point  San  Quentin, 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM   CALIFORNIA.  67 

where  the  State  prison  is  located.  In  this  institution, 
ternis  of  imprisonment  are  shortened  by  wholesale,  with- 
out the  exercise  of  executive  clemency.  When  the 
inmates  have  enjoyed  a  satisfactory  period  of  rest  and 
seclusion,  they  join  in  companies,  and  fillibuster  their  way 
out.  During  my  sojourn  in  California,  forty,  or  fifty  of 
them  took  possession  of  a  sloop,  and  were  only  prevented 
from  escaping,  by  a  discharge  of  grape-shot,  which  killed 
several. 

As  we  approached  Black  Point,  at  the  mouth  of  Peta- 
luma  Creek,  the  water  of  the  bay  became  very  shallow  and 
muddy,  and  our  course  changed  from  a  right  line  into  a 
tortuous  following  of  the  narrow  channel.  The  mouth  of 
the  valley  is  not  more  than  two  miles  wide  ;  and  the  creek, 
which  is  a  mere  tide-water  slough,  winds  its  labyrinthine 
way  through  an  expanse  of  reedy  marshes.  To  the  west- 
ward, towers  a  noble  moijntain-peak,  with  groves  of  live- 
oak  mottling  its  golden  sides ;  while  on  the  east  a  lower 
range  of  tawny  hills  divides  the  valley  from  that  of  Sonoma. 

The  windings  of  the  creek  were  really  bewildering — more 
than  doubling  the  distance.  But  there  is  already  enterprise 
enough  to  straighten  the"  channel.  Gangs  of  men  are  at 
work,  cutting  across  the  bends,  and  in  the  course  of  time, 
the  whole  aspect  of  the  valley  will  be  changed.  We  left 
the  steamer  at  a  place  called  The  Haystack,  about  two 
miles  from  Petaluma.  Time  is  gained  by  taking  an  omnibus 
here,  and  avoiding  the  remaining  curves  of  the  stream. 
The  town,  built  on  the  southern  slope  of  a  low  hill,  makes 
a  very  cheerful  impression.  The  main  street,  built  up  con- 
tinuously for  near  half  a  mile,  slowly  climbs  the  hill — its 


68  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

upper  portion  overlooking  the  blocks  of  neat  cottages  and 
gardens  in  the  rear.  The  houses,  of  course,  are  mostly 
.  frame ;  but  a  beautiful  dai'k-blue  lime-stone  is  rapidly  coming 
into  use.  The  place  already  contains  2,500  inhabitants,  and 
the  air  of  business  and  prosperity  which  it  wears  is  quite 
striking.     • 

After  collecting  all  possible  information  concerning  the 
journey  to  the  Geysers,  I  determined  to  go  on  the  same 
night  to  Santa  Rosa,  sixteen  miles  further  up  the  valley. 
A  considerate  friend  sent  a  note  by  the  evening  stage  to 
Mr.  Dickinson,  a  landlord  in  Healdsburg  (in  Russian  River 
Valley),  engaging  horses  for  the  mountains.  I  then  sought 
and  found  a  reasonable  livery-stable,  the  proprietor  of 
which  furnished  me  with  a  two-horse  buggy — to  be  left  at 
Napa  City,  twenty-four  miles  distant,  on  the  third  day — for 
$20.  The  vehicle  was  strong,  the  horses  admirable,  and  I 
was  to  be  our  own  driver  and  guide.  I  had  intended  em- 
ploying a  man  to  act  in  the  latter  capacity,  until  I  was  told, 
"  You  can  never  find  the  way  alone." 

After  my  evening  duty  was  performed,  and  the  moon 
had  risen,  we  took  our  seats  in  the  buggy,  well-muffled 
against  the  cold  night-wind.  I  was  especially  warned 
against  this  midnight  journey  to  Santa  Rosa.  People  said : 
"  We,  who  have  been  over  the  road,  lose  the  way  in  going 
by  daylight.  How  can  you  find  it  by  night  ?"  But  I  have 
my  plan  of  action  in  such  cases.  I  ask  half  a  dozen  men  of 
very  different  degrees  of  intelligence,  separately,  to  give 
me  instructions.  No  matter  how  much  they  may  differ, 
there  are  always  certain  landmarks  which  coincide:  hold 
on  to  these,  and  let  the  rest  go  !     Thus,  after  much  ques- 


NEAV   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFOENIA.  69 

tioning,  I  found  out  that  I  must  keep  a  certain  main  road 
until  I  had  passed  the  Magnolia  Tavern  ;  then  turn  to  the 
right  around  the  gai'den-fence ;  then  cross  a  gully ;  then 
not  take  a  trail  to  the  right ;  then  drive  over  a  wide,  fence- 
less plain  ;  then  take  the  right  hand,  and  mount  a  hill :  and, 
after  I  had  struck  the  main  fenced  road,  keep  it  to  Santa 
Rosa. 

Accompanied  with  good  wishes  and  misgivings,  we  left 
the  Washington  Hotel,  in  Petaluma.  The  yellow  landscape 
shone  with  a  ghastly  glare  in  the  moonlight ;  and  the 
parched  soil  and  dust  of  the  road  were  so  nearly  the  same 
color,  that  I  was  only  able  to  distinguish  the  highway  by 
the  sound  of  the  wheels.  I  found  the  Magnolia,  rightly 
enough ;  turned  around  the  garden,  crossed  the  gully,  and 
struck  out  boldly  over  the  dim  plain.  The  cold  wind,  still 
raw  from  the  Pacific,  blew  in  our  faces,  and  cheered  us 
with  the  balsam  of  the  tar-weed.  No  sound  of  coyote  or 
gray-wolf  disturbed  the  night.  Through  a  land  of  ghostly 
silence  the  horses  trotted  steadily  onward.  Up  the  pro- 
mised hill ;  through  groves  of  wizard  oaks ;  past  the  dark 
shanties  of  settlers :  with  wheels  rattling  on  gravel  or  muf- 
fled in  dust ;  crossing  the  insteps  of  hills,  and  then  into  an 
apparently  boundless  plain — so  we  dashed  until  midnight, 
when  we  reached  a  large  stream.  Thus  far  we  had  not  seen 
a  living  soul ;  but  now,  a  "  solitary  horseman"  came  up 
behind  us. 

"  Is  this  the  road  to  Santa  Rosa  ?"  I  asked. 

"  You  are  in  Santa  Rosa  now,"  was  the  reply. 

Once  over  the  stream,  there  lay  the  village,  which  the 
oaks  and  sycamores  had  concealed  from  us. 


70  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

I  thundered  vigorously  on  the  door  of  a  tavern;  but  it 
was  long  before  there  was  any  answering  sound.  Finally, 
the  door  was  opened  by  a  barefooted  man,  in  shirt  and 
trowsers — not  growling,  as  I  anticipated,  but  excessively 
polite  and  obliging.  Passing  through  a  parlor,  with  glaring 
ingrain  carpet  and  hair  sofa,  he  ushered  us  into  a  bedroom, 
bounded  on  one  side  by  a  kitchen,  and  on  the  other  by  a 
closet,  where  servant-girls  slept.  It  had  evidently  been  his 
own  room ;  for  the  bed  was  still  warm,  and  no  imagination 
could  endow  the  limp  cotton  sheets  with  freshness.  The 
room  was  disgustingly  dirty — old  clothes,  indescribable 
towels  and  combs  being  scattered  in  the  corners.  Fortu- 
nately, our  fatigue  was  great,  and  the  five  hours'  sleep 
(which  was  all  we  could  take)  cut  short  the  inevitable 
loathing. 

Our  lodging  cost  two  dollars ;  our  horses  the  same. 
Soon  after  six  o'clock,  we  were  under  way  again — intend- 
ing to  take  breakfast  at  Healdsburg,  sixteen  miles  further. 
As  we  got  out  of  the  shabby  little  village  of  Santa  Rosa,  I 
perceived  that  we  were  already  in  Russian  River  Valley. 
Its  glorious  alluvial  level,  sprinkled  with  groves  of  noble 
trees,  extended  far  and  wide  before  us — bounded,  on  the 
west,  by  the  blue  mountains  of  the  coast.  The  greater  part 
of  the  land  was  evidently  claimed,  and  the  series  of  fenced 
and  cultivated  fields  on  either  side  of  the  road  was  almost 
unuiterrupted.  It  was  melancholy  to  see  how  wantonly  the 
most  beautiful  trees  in  the  world  had  been  destroyed ;  for 
the  world  has  never  seen  such  oaks  as  grow  in  Russian 
River  Valley.  The  fields  of  girdled  and  blackened  skeletons 
seemed  doubly  hideous  by  contrast  with  the  glory  of  the 


NEW   PICTURES   FKOM    CALIFORNIA.  11 

surviving  trees.  Water  seems  to  be  more  abundant  in  this 
valley  than  in  that  of  San  Jose :  the  pictm-esque  windmill  is 
not  a  feature  in  the  landscape.  The  settlers  are  mostly 
Pikes ;  but  one  man,  of  whom  I  asked  the  way,  rather 
puzzled  me,  at  first.  His  shaggy  brown  hair,  flat  nose,  and 
Calmuck  nostrils,  led  me  to  suspect  that  he  might  be  a 
Russian  remnant  of  the  old  settlement  of  Bodega.  After 
trying  Spanish  and  German  without  success,  I  was  vainly 
straining  after  a  Russian  phrase,  when  he  suddenly  addressed 
me  in  French.  His  patois,  however,  was  harsh  and  barba- 
rous, and  I  set  him  down  for  a  Basque  or  a  Breton. 

The  valley  gradually  narrowed  to  a  breadth  of  five  or  six 
miles ;  the  mountains  became  more  densely  wooded  ;  impe- 
rial sycamores  lifted  their  white  arms  over  the  heads  of  the 
oaks ;  and  tall,  dark  redwoods  towered  like  giants  along 
the  slopes  and  summits.  The  landscapes  were  of  ravishing 
beauty — a  beauty  not  purchased  at  the  expense  of  any 
material  advantage  ;  for  nothing  could  exceed  the  fertility 
of  the  soil.  Indian  corn,  which  thrives  but  moderately 
elsewhere  in  California,  here  rivalled  the  finest  fields  of  the 
West.  The  fields  of  wild  oats  mocked  the  results  of  arti 
ficial  culture ;  and  the  California  boast,  of  making  walking- 
canes  of  the  stalks,  seemed  to  be  scarcely  exaggerated. 
Then,  as  we  approached  Russian  River,  what  a  bowery 
luxuriance  of  sycamores,  bay  trees,  shrubbery,  and  climbing 
vines !  What  wonderful  vistas  of  foliage,  starry  flowers, 
and  pebbly  reaches,  mirrored  in  the  sparkling  water !  It 
was  a  kindred  picture  to  that  of  the  Valley  of  the  Alpheus, 
in  Greece,  but  far  richer  in  coloring. 

Such  scenery  was  not  to  be  enjoyed  without  payment. 


12  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

There  was  beauty  around,  but  there  was  dust  below.  After 
crossing  the  river,  our  wheels  sank  into  a  foot  of  dry,  black 
powder,  which  spun  off  the  tires  in  terrific  clouds.  It  was 
blinding,  choking,  annihilating  ;  and  the  only  way  to  escape 
it  was,  to  drive  with  such  rapidity  that  you  were  past 
before  it  reached  the  level  of  your  head.  But  under  the 
dust  were  invisible  ruts  and  holes;  and  the  faster  you 
drove,  the  more  liable  you  were  to  snap  some  bolt  or 
spring,  by  a  sudden  wrench.  Less  than  a  mile  of  such  tra- 
vel, however,  brought  us  to  the  outskirts  of  Ilealdsburg, 
This  town — which  is  only  two  years  old,  and  numbers  six 
or  eight  hundred  inhabitants — is  built  in  a  forest  of  fir  and 
pine  trees.  The  houses  seem  to  spring  up  faster  than  the 
streets  can  be  laid  out,  with  the  exception  of  an  open 
square  in  the  centre — a  sort  of  public  trading-ground  and 
forum,  such  as  you  see  in  the  Sclavonic  villages  of  Eastern 
Europe.  Wild  and  backwoodsy  as  the  place  aj^peared,  it 
was  to  us  the  welcome  herald  of  breakfast. 

The  note  dispatched  from  Petaluma  had  had  the  desired 
eflfect.  Mr.  Dickinson  had  gone  on  to  Ray's  tavern,  at  the 
foot  of  the  mountains,  with  the  saddle-horses ;  an^  his 
partner  soon  supplied  us  with  an  excellent  meal.  The  road 
to  Ray's  was  described  as  being  rough,  and  hard  to  find  ; 
but  as  the  distance  was  only  eight  or  nine  miles,  and  my 
instructions  were  intelligibly  given,  I  determined  to  take 
no  guide.  There  are  settlements  along  Russian  River, 
almost  to  its  source — some  seventy  or  eighty  miles  above 
llealdsbtn-g ;  and  still  beyond  the  valley,  as  you  go  north, 
ward,  extends  a  succession  of  others,  lying  within  the  arms 
of  the  Coast  Range,  as  far  as  Trinity  River.    They  are  said 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  .  Y3 

to  be  wonderfully  fertile  and  beautiful,  and  those  which  are 
not  appropriated  as  Indian  reservations,  are  rapidly  filling 
up  with  settlers.  As  there  are  no  good  harbors  on  the 
coast  between  Bodega  and  Humboldt,  much  of  the  inter- 
course between  this  region  and  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco 
must  be  carried  on  by  the  way  of  Petaluma  and  the  Rus- 
sian River.  The  sudden  rise  of  Healdsburg  is  thus  ac- 
counted for. 

Resuming  our  journey,  we  travelled  for  four  or  five  miles 
through  scenery  of  the  most  singular  beauty.  To  me,  it 
was  an  altogether  new  variety  of  landscape.  Even  in 
California,  where  Nature  presents  so  many  phases,  there  is 
nothing  like  it  elsewhere.  Fancy  a  country  composed  of 
mounds  from  one  to  five  hundred  feet  in  height,  arranged 
in  every  possible  style  of  grouping,  or  piled  against  and 
upon  each  other,  yet  always  rounded  off  with  the  most 
wonderful  smoothness  and  grace — not  a  line  but  curves  as 
exquisitely  as  the  loins  of  the  antique  Venus — covered  with 
a  short,  even  sward  of  golden  grass,  and  studded  with  trees 
— singly,  in  clumps,  or  in  groves — which  surpass,  in  artistic 
perfection  of  form,  all  other  trees  that  grow  !  "  This,"  said 
I,  "  is  certainly  the  last-created  portion  of  our  planet. 
Here  the  Divine  Architect  has  lingered  over  His  work  with 
reluctant  fondness,  giving  it  the  final  caressing  touches 
with  which  He  pronounced  it  good." 

Indeed,  our  further  journey  seemed  to  be  through  some 
province  of  dream-land.  As  the  valley  opened  again,  and 
our  course  turned  eastward  toward  the  group  of  lofty 
moimtains  in  which  Pluton  River  lies  hidden,  visions  of 
violet  peaks  shimmered  afar,  through  the  perfect  trees. 


74  .  AT   HOME    AXD    ABROAD. 

Headlands  crowned  with  colossal  redwood  were  thrust 
forward  from  the  ranges  on  either  hand,  embaying  between 
them  the  loveliest  glens.  The  day  was  cloudless,  warm, 
and  calm,  with  barely  enough  of  breeze  to  shake  the 
voluptuous  spice  from  the  glossy  bay-leaves.  After  cross- 
ing Russian  River  a  second  time — here  a  broad  bed  of  dry 
pebbles — we  found  fields  and  farm-houses.  The  road  was 
continually  crossed  by  deep  arroyos^  in  and  out  of  which 
our  horses  plunged  with  remarkable  dexterity.  The  smaller 
gullies  were  roughly  bridged  with  loose  logs,  covered  with 
brush.  We  were  evidently  approaching  the  confines  of 
civilization. 

I  missed  the  road  but  once,  and  then  a  cart-track  through 
the  fields  soon  brought  me  back  again.  At  noon,  precisely, 
we  reached  Ray's — a  little  shanty  in  a  valley  at  the  foot 
of  Geyser  Peak.  Thence  we  were  to  proceed  on  horse- 
back to  the  region  of  wonders. 

Ray's  Tavern  (or  stable)  is  only  twelve  miles  from  the 
Geysers;  yet  we  should  find  these  miles,  we  were  told, 
longer  than  the  forty  we  had  travelled.  Some  of  our 
friends  had  given  us  threatening  pictures  of  the  rocks, 
precipices,  and  mountain-heights  to  be  overcome.  It  was 
fortunate  that  the  horses  had  been  ordered  in  advance ;  for 
Ray's  is  a  lonely  place,  and  we  might  otherwise  have  been 
inconveniently  delayed.  Mr.  Dickinson  and  an  Indian  boy 
were  the  only  inhabitants.  There  was  a  bar,  with  bottles, 
a  piece  of  cheese,  and  a  box  of  soda-crackers,  in  one  room, 
and  a  cot  in  the  other. 

Presently,  our  horses  were  led  up  to  the  door.  Mine 
was  a  dilapidated  mustang,  furnished  with  one  of  those 


NEW    PICTURES    FU0:>1    CALIFORN'IA.  15 

Mexican  saddles  which  are  so  easy  in  the  scat  and  so  un- 
easy in  the  stirrups  (on  mountain  roads) ;  while  my  wife 
received  a  gray  mare,  recommended  as  an  admii-able  crea- 
ture ;  and  so  she  was — with  the  exception  of  a  blind  eye,  a 
sore  back,  and  a  habit  of  stumbling.  "  You  can't  miss  the 
ti'ail,"  said  Mr.  Dickinson — which,  in  fact,  we  didn't. 
Starting  off,  merrily,  alone,  up  a  little  canon  behind  the 
tavern,  with  the  noonday  sun  beating  down  fiercely  upon 
our  backs,  it  was  not  long  before  we  breathed  a  purer  air  than 
that  of  the  valley,  and  received  a  fresher  inspiration  from  the 
richly-tinted  panorama  which  gradually  unfolded  before  us. 
The  high,  conical  peak,  behind  which  lay  the  Geysers, 
and  the  lower  slopes  of  which  we  were  ascending,  was 
called  Monte  de  las  Putas,  by  the  Spaniards ;  but  is  now, 
fortunately,  likely  to  lose  that  indecent  appellation,  and 
return  to  respectability,  as  Geyser  Peak.  Its  summit  is 
3,800  feet  above  the  sea,  and  distinctly  visible  from  the 
Bay  of  San  Francisco.  Eastward,  across  an  intervening 
valley,  rises  the -blue  bulk  of  Mount  St.  Helene,  5,000  feet 
high ;  while,  to  the  West  and  South,  the  valley  of  Russian 
River,  which  here  makes  an  abrupt  curve,  spread  wide 
below  us — a  dazzling  picture  of  warmth,  life,  and  beauty, 
covered  as  with  a  misty  violet-bloom.  Our  road  was 
shaded  with  pines  and  oaks,  with  an  undergrowth  of  buck- 
eye and  manzanita.  The  splendid  forms  of  the  trees  were 
projected  with  indescribable  eflfect  against  the  yellow  har- 
vest which  mantled  the  mountain-sides.  The  madrono^ 
elsewhere  a  shrub,  here  becomes  a  magnificent  tree,  con- 
stantly charming  the  eye  with  its  trunk  of  bronze,  its 
branches  of  copper,  and  its  leaves  of  supernatural  green. 


76  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

Ascending  gradually  for  a  mile  and  a  half,  we  readied 
the  top  of  the  first  terrace  or  abutment  of  the  mountain- 
chain.  Here  stood  a  shanty,  near  a  spring  which  suddenly 
oozed  out  of  the  scorched  soil.  Half-a-dozen  used-up  horses 
were  trying  to  get  a  drink,  and  a  hard  of  at  least  four  hun- 
dred sheep  was  gathered  together  under  the  immense 
spreading  boughs  of  some  evei'green  oaks  ;  but  settlers  and 
shepherds  were  absent.  I  rode  up  to  the  window ;  but  a 
curtain  of  blue  calico,  placed  there  to  exclude  the  sun  and 
flies,  baffled  my  curiosity. 

We  now  followed  the  top  of  the  ridge  for  three  or  four 
miles,  by  a  broad  and  beautiful  trail  marked  with  cart- 
wheels. A  pleasant  breeze  blew  from  the  opposite  height, 
and  the  clumps  of  giant  madronos  and  pines  shielded  us 
from  the  sun.  As  we  cantered  lightly  along,  our  eyes 
rested  continually  on  the  wonderful  valley  below.  The 
landscape,  colossal  in  its  forms,  seemed  to  lie  motion- 
less,' leagues  deep,  at  the  bottom  of  an  ocean  of  blue  air. 
The  atmosphere,  transparent  as  ever,  was  palpable  as  glass, 
from  its  depth  of  color.  No  object  lost  its  distinctness,  but 
became  part  of  an  unattainable,  though  not  unreal  world. 
The  same  feeling  was  excited,  as  when,  leaning  over  a  boat 
in  some  crystal  cove  of  the  tropical  sea,  I  have  watched  the 
dells  and  valleys  of  the  coral  forests  below.  Across  a  deep 
hollow  on  our  right,  splendidly  robed  in  forests,  rose  Gey- 
ser Peak,  covered  to  the  summit  with  purple  chamisal.  I 
am  afraid  to  describe  the  effect  of  this  scenery.  It  was  a 
beauty  so  exquisite,  a  harmony  so  complete,  as  to  take  away 
the  effect  of  reality,  and  our  enjoyment  was  of  that  supreme 
character  which  approaches  the  sense  of  pain. 


NEW   PICrURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  77 

Finally  we  descended  into  the  hollow,  which  narrowed 
to  an  abrupt  gorge,  losing  itself  between  steep  mountain 
walls.  Masses  of  black  volcanic  rock,  among  which  grew 
Titanic  pines,  gave  the  place  a  wild,  savage  air,  but  the 
bottom  of  the  gorge  was  a  bower  of  beauty.  An  impe- 
tuous stream  of  crystal  water  plunged  down  it,  overhung 
by  a  wilderness  of  maples,  plane-trees,  and  deciduous  oaks. 
As  we  were  about  to  cross-,  a  wild  figure  on  horseback 
dashed  out  of  the  thicket.  It  was  a  Pike  boy  of  fourteen, 
on  a  Mexican  saddle,  with  calzoneros,  leather-gaiters,  and 
a  lasso  in  his  hand.  "  Have  you  seen  a  stray  cow  ?"  he 
shouted.  We  had  been  looking  at  something  else  than 
cows.  "  'Cause,"  he  added,  "  one  of  ourn's  missin'.  You're 
goin'  to  the  springs,  I  reckon  ?  Well,  I'm  goin's  fur's  the 
Surveyor's  Camp."  He  had  been  four  years  in  the  country. 
His  father  lived  in  the  valley,  but  sent  cattle  upon  the  hills 
to  pasture.  "  Lost  cattle  reg'lar.  Grizzlies  eat  'em  some- 
times— still,  it  paid.  What  was  them  trees  ? — matheroons 
(madronos).''  "Like  California?"  "Yes.  Didn't  want 
to  go  back,  nohow.  Didn't  want  a  cigar — chawed  /"  as  a 
dexterous  squirt  of  brown  juice  over  his  horse's  head  proved. 
Such  was  the  information  elicited  by  my  questioning. 

Meanwhile  we  had  been  gi'adually  regaining  the  summit 
of  the  ridge  beyond  the  gorge  ;  riding  under  broad-leaved 
oaks,  which  reminded  me  of  the  Erymanthean  forests.  Pre- 
sently there  opened  the  most  unexpected  picture.  A  cir- 
cular meadow  of  green  turf,  the  peak  on  our  right,  golden 
and  purple  to  its  summit ;  an  oak-knoll  on  the  left,  dotted 
with  white  tents,  with  picketed  horses,  men  lying  in  the 
shade,  and  all  the  other  picturesque  accessories  of  a  camp 


78  AT   HOME    AND    AliROAD. 

It  was  the  head-quarters  of  Capt.  Davidson,  of  the  Coast- 
Survey — evidently  a  man  of  taste  as  well  as  science.  The 
repose  was  temjDting,  especially  to  my  companion,  to  whom 
rough  mountain  travel  was  a  new  thing ;  but  we  had  no 
time  to  lose,  for  there  were  the  Geysers  before  us,  and  a 
journey  of  sixty  miles  on  the  morrow.  A  made  trail, 
engineered  up  the  steep  by  easy  windings,  led  us  to  a 
height  of  3,200  feet  above  the  sea  ;  whence  the  unknown 
realms  behind  Geyser  Peak  became  visible,  and  we  turned 
our  backs  on  Russian  River  Yalley. 

It  was  a  wild  region  upon  which  we  now  entered.  Sheer 
down  slid  the  huge  mountain-sides,  to  depths  unknown,  for 
they  Avere  concealed  by  the  thick-set  pillars  of  the  fir  and 
redwood.  Opposite  rose  heights  equally  abrupt ;  over  their 
almost  level  line,  the  blue  wall  of  a  chain  beyond,  and  scat- 
tered peaks  in  the  dimmest  distance.  The  intervening 
gorges  ran  from  east  to  west,  but  that  immediately  below 
us  was  divided  by  a  narrow  partition-wall,  which  crossed  it 
transversely,  connecting  the  summits  of  the  two  chains. 
Over  this  wall  our  road  lay.  The  golden  tint  of  the  wild 
oats  was  gone  from  the  landscape.  The  mountains  were 
covered  to  the  summits  with  dense  masses  of  furze,  chami- 
sal,  laurel,  and  manzanita,  painting  them  with  gorgeous 
purples,  yellows,  browns,  and  greens.  For  the  hundredth 
time  I  exclaimed,  "  What  a  country  for  an  artist !" 

On  the  sharp  comb  of  the  transverse  connecting-wall  over 
which  we  rode,  there  was  barely  room  for  the  trail.  It  was 
originally  next  to  impassable,  but  several  thousand  dollars 
expended  in  cutting  chapparal,  blasting  rocks,  and  bridging 
ch.-isms,  have  made  it  secure  and  easy.    The  carcass  of  a 


NEW   riCTUEES    FROM   CALIFORNIA.  70 

calf,  killed  by  a  grizzly  bear  a  few  days  before,  lay  beside 
the  path.  "We  also  passed  a  tethered  mule,  with  a  glimpse 
of  somebody  asleep  under  a  rock ;  after  which,  the  silence 
and  solitude  was  complete. 

We  reached  the  opposite  ridge  with  feelings  of  relief — 
not  from  any  dangers  passed,  but  because  we  knew  that 
Pluton  River  must  lie  in  the  gorge  beyond,  and  we  were 
excessively  fatigued  and  hungry.  The  sky  between  the 
distant  peaks  became  so  clear  as  to  indicate  that  a  conside- 
rable depression  lay  below  it,  and  I  conjectured  (rightly,  as 
it  proved,)  that  this  must  be  Clear  Lake.  Looking  down 
into  the  gulf  below  us,  I  noticed  only  that  while  the  side 
upon  which  we  stood  was  covered  with  magnificent  forests, 
the  opposite  or  northern  steep  was  comparatively  bare,  and 
the  deep  gullies  which  seamed  it  showed  great  patches  of 
yellow  and  orange-colored  earth  near  the  bottom.  But  no 
sound  was  to  be  heard,  no  column  of  vapor  to  be  seen. 
Indeed,  the  bottom  of  the  gorge  was  invisible,  from  the 
steepness  of  its  sides. 

Straight  down  went  the  trail,  descending  a  thousand  feet 
in  the  distance  of  a  mile.  It  was  like  riding  down  the  roof 
of  a  Gothic  church.  The  horses  planted  themselves  on  their 
fore  feet,  and  in  some  places  slid,  rather  than  walked.  The 
jolts,  or  shocks,  with  which  they  continually  brought  up, 
jarred  us  in  every  joint.  Superb  as  was  the  forest  around, 
lovely  as  Avere  the  glimpses  into  the  wild  dells  on  either 
side,  Ave  scarcely  heeded  them,  but  looked  forward  at  every 
turn  for  the  inn  which  was  to  bring  us  comfort.  At  last  we 
saw  the  river,  near  at  hand.  The  trail,  notched  along  the 
side  of  its  precipitous  banks,  almost  overhung  it,  and  a  sin- 


80  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

gle  slip  would  have  sent  horse  and  rider  into  its  bed.  Ha! 
here  is  a  row  of  bathing  shanties.  A  thin  thread  of  steam 
puffs  out  of  a  mound  of  sulphur-colored  earth,  opposite.  Is 
that  all  ?  was  my  first  dolorous  query — followed  by  the 
reflection  :  if  there  were  nothing  here,  we  have  still  been 
a  thousand  times  repaid.  But — there  comes  the  hotel  at 
last! 

It  was  a  pleasant  frame  building  of  two  stories,,  sur- 
rounded with  spacious  verandas.  Patriarchal  oaks  shaded 
the  knoll  on  which  it  stood,  and  the  hot  river  roared  over 
volcanic  rocks  below.  A  gentleman,  sitting  tilted  against 
a  tree,  quietly  scrutinized  us.  While  I  was  lifting  my  help- 
less companion  from  the  saddle,  an  Indian  ostler  took  the 
beasts,  and  an  elegant  lady  in  a  black-velvet  basque  and 
silk  skirt  came  forward  to  receive  us.  I  was  at  a  loss  how 
to  address  her,  until  the  unmistakable  brogue  and  manners 
betrayed  the  servant-gal.  She  conducted  us  to  the  baths, 
and  then  assumed  a  graceful  position  on  a  rock  until  we 
had  washed  away  the  aches  of  our  bones  in  the  liquid  sul- 
phur. A  pipe,  carried  from  a  spring  across  the  river,  sup- 
plies the  baths,  which  have  a  temperature  of  about  100 
degrees.  In  their  vicinity  is  a  cold  spring,  strongly  impreg- 
nated with  iron. 

The  bath,  a  lunch,  and  a  bottle  of  good  claret,  restored 
us  so  thoroughly,  that  my  wife  declaimed  her  ability  to  make 
the  tour  of  the  Geysers  at  once.  In  the  meantime,  Mr. 
Godwin,  the  proprietor  of  the  Hotel  and  the  adjacent  Pan- 
demonium, arrived  with  Capt.  Davidson,  who  had  been 
endeavoring  to  ascertain  the  temjjerature  of  the  steam. 
The  former  was  kind  enough  to  be  our  guide,  and  we  set 


NEW    PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  81 

out  immediately,  for  the  remaining  honr  and  a  half  of  day- 
light was  barely  sufficient  for  the  undertaking.  The  Gey- 
sers lie  in  a  steep  little  lateral  canon,  the  mouth  of  which 
opens  on  Pluton  river,  exactly  opposite  the  hotel.  The 
best  way  to  visit  them  is,  to  enter  the  bottom  of  this  canon, 
and  so  gradually  climb  to  the  top.  Many  persons,  ladies 
especially,  are  deterred  from  attempting  it,  but  there  is 
nothing  very  difficult  or  dangerous  in  the  feat.  The  air  of 
the  valley  is  strongly  flavored  with  sulphur,  but  beyond 
this  fact,  and  the  warmth  of  the  stream,  there  are  no  indi- 
cations of  the  phenomena  near  at  hand. 

Mr.  Godwin  first  showed  us  an  iron  spring,  in  a  rude 
natui'al  basin  among  the  rocks.  The  water  is  so  strongly 
ferruginous,  that  a  thick,  red  scum  gathers  on  the  top  of  it, 
and  the  stones  around  are  tinted  a  deep  crimson.  A  little 
further  there  is  an  alkaline  spring,  surrounded  with  bub- 
bling jets  of  sulphur.  The  water  becomes  warmer  as  we 
climb,  the  air  more  stifling,  and  the  banks  of  the  ravine 
higher,  more  ragged  in  form,  and  more  glaringly  marked 
with  dashes  of  fiery  color.  Here  and  there  are  rocky 
chambers,  the  sides  of  which  are  incrusted  with  patches  of 
sulphur  crystals,  while  in  natural  pigeon-holes  are  deposits 
of  magnesia,  epsom  salts,  and  various  alkaline  mixtures. 
One  of  these  places  is  called  the  Devil's  Apothecary  Shop. 
Hot  sulphur  springs  become  more  frequent,  gushing  up 
wherever  a  little  vent-hole  can  be  forced  through  the  rocks. 
The  ground  grows  warm  under  our  feet,  and  a  li^ht  steam 
begins  to  arise  from  the  stream.  The  path  is  very  steep, 
slippery,  and  toilsome. 

After   passing   several   hot   springs,   impregnated    with 

4* 


82  AT    HOME    AND    ABKOAD, 

epsom  salts  and  magnesia,  we  come,  finally,  to  the  region 
where  sulphur  maintains  a  diabolical  pre-eminence.  The 
trees  which  shade  the  ravine  in  the  lower  part  of  its  course, 
now  disappear.  All  vegetation  is  blasted  by  the  mixture 
of  powerful  vapors.  The  ground  is  hot  under  your  feet : 
you  hear  the  bubbling  of  boiling  springs,  and  are  half 
choked  by  the  rank  steam  that  arises  from  them.  From 
bubbling,  the  springs  at  the  bases  of  the  rocks  gradually 
change  to  jetting,  in  quick,  regular  throbs,  yet — what  is 
most  singular  in  this  glen  of  wonders — no  two  of  them  pre- 
cisely alike.  Some  are  intermittently  weak  and  strong, 
like  a  revolving  light ;  some  are  rapid  and  short,  others 
exhale  long,  fluttering  pants  or  sighs,  and  others  again 
have  a  double,  reciprocal  motion,  like  the  sistole  and  dia- 
stole of  the  heart.  In  one  you  fancy  you  detect  the  move- 
ment of  a  subterranean  piston-rod.  They  have  all  received 
fantastic  names,  suggested  by  their  mode  of  working. 

"With  the  light  bubbling  and  sputtering  of  these  springs, 
and  the  dash  of  the  boiling  brook,  there  now  mingles  a 
deeper  sound.  Above  us  are  the  gates  of  the  great  cham- 
ber, whose  red,  burnt  walls  we  dimly  see  through  volumes 
of  whirling  steam — nothing  else  is  visible.  We  walk  in  a 
sticky  slush  of  sulphur,  which  burns  through  the  soles  of 
our  boots ;  we  gasp  for  breath  as  some  fiercer  whifF  drives 
across  our  faces.  A  horrible  mouth  yawns  in  the  black 
rock,  belching  forth  tremendous  volumes  of  sulphurous 
vapor.  Approaching  as  near  as  we  dare,  and  looking  in, 
we  see  the  black  waters  boiling  in  mad,  pitiless  fury,  foam- 
ing around  the  sides  of  their  prison,  spirting  in  venomous 
froth  over  its  jagged  lips,  and  sending  forth  a  hoarse,  hiss- 


NEW  PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORlflA.  83 

ing,  almost  howling  sound.  This  is  the  Witches'  Caldron. 
Its  temperature,  as  approximately  ascertained  by  Capt. 
Davidson,  is  about  500  degrees.  An  egg  dipped  in  and 
taken  out  is  boiled  ;  and  were  a  man  to  fall  in,  he  would  be 
reduced  to  broth  in  two  minutes. 

Climbing  to  a  little  rocky  point  above  this  caldron,  we 
pause  to  take  breath  and  look  around.  This  is  the.end  of 
the  caiion — the  gulf  of  perdition  in  which  it  takes  its  rise. 
The  torn,  irregular  walls  around  us  glare  with  patches  of 
orange,  crimson,  sulphur,  livid  gray,  and  fiery  brown,  which 
the  last  rays  of  the  sun,  striking  their  tops,  turn  into  masses 
of  smouldering  fire.  Over  the  rocks,  crusted  as  with  a 
mixture  of  blood  and  brimstone,  pour  angry  cataracts  of 
seething  milky  water.  In  every  corner  and  crevice,  a  little 
piston  is  working  or  a  heart  is  beating,  while  from  a  hun- 
dred vent-holes  about  fifty  feet  above  our  heads,  the  steam 
rushes  in  terrible  jets.  I  have  never  beheld  any  scene  so 
entirely  infernal  in  its  appearance.  The  rocks  burn  under 
you  ;  you  are  enveloped  in  fierce  heat,  strangled  by  pufis 
of  diabolical  vapor,  and  stunned  by  the  awful  hissing,  spit- 
ting, sputtering,  roaring,  threatening  sounds — as  if  a  dozen 
steamboats  blowing  through  their  escape-pipes,  had  aroused 
the  ire  of  ten-thousand  hell-cats.  You  seem  to  have  ven- 
tured into  a  prohibited  realm.  The  bubbling  pulses  of  the 
springs  throb  in  angry  excitement,  the  great  vents  over- 
head blow  warning  trumpets,  and  the  black  caldron  darts 
up  frothy  arms  to  clutch  and  drag  you  down. 

I  was  rather  humiliated,  that  I  alone,  of  all  the  party, 
was  made  faint  and  sick  by  the  vapors.  We  thereupon 
climbed   the   "fiery  Alps,"  crushing  the  brittle  sulphur- 


84  AT    HOME    AXD    ABEOAP. 

crystals,  and  slipping  on  the  steep  planes  of  hot  mud,  until 
we  reached  the  top,  whence  there  is  a  more  agreeable,  but 
less  impressive  vicAV  of  the  pit.     I  here  noticed  that  the 
steam  rushes  from  the  largest  of  the  vent-holes  with  such 
force,  and  heated  to  such  a  degree,  that  it  first  becomes 
visible  at  the  distance  of  six  feet  from  the  earth.    It  there 
begins  to  mix  Avith  the  air,  precipitate  its  moisture,  and 
increases  in  volume  to  the  height  of  eighty  feet.     In  the 
morning,  when  the  atmosphere  is  cool,  the  columns  rise 
fully  two  hundred  feet.     These  tremendous  steam-escapes 
are   the   most  striking   feature   of  the   place.     The   term 
"  Geysers"  is  incorrect :  there  is  no  spouting,  as  in  the 
springs   of  Iceland — no  sudden  jots,  with  pauses  of  rest 
between:   yet  the  phenomena  are  not  less  curious.     Mr. 
Godwin  informed  me  that  the  amount  of  steam  discharged 
is  greater  during  the  night  than  by  day,  and  in  winter  than 
in  summer.    I  presume,  however,  that  this  is  only  a  differ- 
ence in  the  visible  amount,  depending  on  the  temperature 
of  the  air — the  machinery  working  constantly  at  the  same 
rate  of  pressure. 

A  short  distance  to  the  east  is  another  cluster  of  pulsating 
springs,  on  the  side  of  the  hill.  Here  the  motions  are  again 
different,  and  present  some  curious  appearances.  In  one 
place  are  two  pistons  working  against  each  other ;  in  ano- 
ther, a  whirling  motion,  like  that  produced  by  the  blades  of 
a  propeller.  Still  further  up  the  valley  are  other  springs, 
which  we  had  no  time  to  visit.  The  accounts  heretofore 
published  are  very  incorrect.  No  appreciable  difference  in 
the  temperature  of  the  valley  is  occasioned  by  these  springs. 
The  hotel  is  1800  feet  above  the  sea,  and  snow  falls  in  the 


NEW  PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  85 

winter.  The  abundance  of  maples  and  deciduous  oaks 
shows  the  same  decrease  of  warmth  as  is  elsewhere  observed 
at  the  same  height.  The  plan  of  planting  tropical  trees  on 
the  sides  of  the  canon,  which  I  have  seen  mentioned  in  the 
California  newspapers,  is  preposterous.  No  vegetation  can 
exist  within  the  limits  of  the  heated  soil. 

.  Sunset  was  fading  from  the  tops  of  the  northern  hills,  as 
we  returned  to  the  hotel.  The  wild,  lonely  grandeur  of 
the  valley — the  contrast  of  its  Eden-like  slopes  of  turf  and 
forest,  with  those  ravines  of  Tartarus — charmed  me  com- 
pletely, and  I  would  willingly  have  passed  weeks  in  explor- 
ing its  recesses.  A  stage-road  is  to  be  made  over  the 
mountain,  but  I  should  prefer  not  to  be  among  the  first  pas- 
sengers. One  man,  they  say,  has  already  driven  across  in 
his  buggy — a  feat  which  I  could  not  believe  to  be  possible. 
The  evening  before  our  arrival,  a  huge  grizzly  bear  walked 
past  the  hotel,  and  the  haiinch  of  a  young  one,  killed  the 
same  day,  formed  part  of  our  dinner.  In  the  evening  I  sat 
in  the  veranda,  enjoying  the  moonlight  and  Capt.  David- 
son's stories  of  his  adventures  among  the  coast  tribes,  until 
thoroughly  overcome  by  sleep  and  fatigue. 

At  sunrise,  the  hissing  and  roaring  was  distinctly  audible 
across  the  valley.  The  steam  rose  in  broad,  perpendicular 
columns,  to  an  immense  height.  There  was  no  time  for 
another  visit,  however,  for  we  were  obliged  to  reach  Napa 
City  the  same  evening,  and  by  seven  o'clock  were  in  our 
saddles.  The  morning  air  was  fragrant  with  bay  and  aro- 
matic herbs  as  we  climbed  the  awful  steep.  A  sweet  wind 
whispered  in  the  pines,  and  the  mountains,  with  their  hues 
of  purple  and  green  and  gold,  basked  tn  glorious  sunshine. 


86  AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

In  spite  of  the  rough  trail  and  rougher  horses,  we  got  back 
to  Ray's  in  three  hours  and  forty  minutes.  My  companion 
dropped  from  the  saddle  into  a  chair,  unable  to  move.  Mr. 
Dickinson,  with  kindly  forethought,  had  provided  some 
melons,  and  I  think  I  was  never  refreshed  with  more  cold 
and  luscious  hydromel. 


4. — ^A  Struggle  to  Keep  an  Appointment. 

The  change  from  our  bone-racking  saddle-horses  to  the 
light,  easy  buggy  and  span  of  fast  blacks,  made  the  com- 
mencement of  our  journey  a  veritable  luxury,  in  spite  of 
the  heat  and  dust.  Our  road  led  up  a  lateral  arm  of  Rus- 
sian River  Valley,  extending  eastward  toward  the  foot  of 
Mount  St.  Helene.  Though  the  country  was  but  thinly 
settled,  there  was  more  than  one  stately  two-story  farm- 
house standing,  with  a  lordly  air,  in  its  natural  park  of  oaks, 
and  we  passed — what  I  had  been  longing  to  see — a  school- 
house.  The  few  cultivated  fields  were  fenced  without  re- 
gard to  expense — or,  rather,  with  a  proper  regard  to  their 
bountiful  harvests — yet  the  trees,  whose  slaughter  we  had 
lamented,  further  down  the  valley,  were  generously  spared. 
ITie  oaks  were  hung  with  streamers  of  silver-gray  moss, 
from  one  to  three  feet  long,  and  resembling,  in  texture,  the 
finest  point-lace.  So  airy  and  delicate  was  this  ornament, 
that  the  groves  through  which  we  passed  had  nothing  of 
that  sombre,  weeping  character  which  makes  the  cypress 
swamps  of   the   Sduth   so   melancholy.     Here  they  were 


NEW  PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  87 

decked  as  if  for  a  bridal,  and  slept  in  languid,  happy  beauty, 
in  the  lap  of  the  golden  hills. 

More  than  once,  the  road  was  arbitrarily  cut  off,  and 
turned  from  its  true  course,  by  the  fencing  in  of  new  fields. 
This  was  especially  disagreeable  where  a  cove  of  level  bot- 
tom-land had  been  thus  inclosed,  and  we  were  forced  to 
take  the  hill-side,  where  the  wheels  slipped  slowly  along, 
one  side  being  dangerously  elevated  above  the  other.  I 
was  informed  (whether  truly  or  not  I  cannot  say)  that  the 
county  has  never  yet  located  a  single  road — consequently, 
the  course  of  the  highways  is  wholly  at  the  mercy  of  the 
settlers,  each  of  whom  makes  whatever  changes  his  interest 
or  convenience  may  suggest.  A  mile  of  side-hill  was  some- 
times inflicted  upon  us,  when  a  difference  of  ten  yards 
would  have  given  us  a  level  floor.  Our  horses,  however, 
were  e\ndently  accustomed  to  these  peculiarities,  and  went 
on  their  way  with  a  steadiness  and  cheerfulness  which  I  had 
never  seen  equalled. 

Still  more  remarkable  was  their  intelligent  manner  of 
crossing  the  deep  arroyos  which  Ave  encountered  near  the 
head  of  the  valley.  There  were  rarely  any  bridges.  The 
road  plunged  straight  down  the  precipitous  side  of  the  gul- 
ly, and  then  immediately  mounted  at  the  same  angle.  As 
we  commenced  the  descent,  the  horses  held  back  until  they 
seemed  to  stand  on  their  fore-feet,  poising  the  buggy  as  a 
juggler  poises  a  chair  on  his  chin.  When  halfway  down, 
they  cautiously  yielded  to  the  strain,  sprang  with  a  sudden 
impetus  that  took  away  one's  breath,  cleared  the  bottom, 
and,  laying  hold  of  the  opposite  steep  as  if  their  hoofs  had 
been  hands,  scrambled  to  the  top  before  the  vehicle  had 


88  AT   HOME    AND    ABEOAD. 

time  to  recover  its  weight  by  wholly  losing  the  impulsion. 
Even  my  inexperienced  companion,  to  whom  these  descents 
seemed  at  first  so  perilous,  was  soon  enabled  to  make  them 
with  entire  confidence  in  the  sagacity  of  the  noble  animals. 

In  one  instance,  they  showed  a  self-possession  almost 
human.  We  came  to  an  arroyo,  which,  at  first  sight,  ap- 
peared to  be  impassable.  It  was  about  forty  feet  deep,  the 
sides  dropping  at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  and  meet- 
ing in  a  pool  of  water  at  the  bottom.  Down  we  went, 
with  a  breathless  rush ;  but,  fearing  that  the  sudden  change 
from  the  line  of  descent  to  that  of  ascent  might  snap  some 
bolt  in  the  vehicle,  I  checked  the  speed  of  the  horses  more 
than  was  prudent.  We  were  but  half  way  up  the  other 
side,  when  the  buggy  recovered  its  weight,  and  began  to 
drag  back.  They  felt,  instantaneously,  the  impossibility  of 
bringing  it  to  the  top  ;  stopped  ;  backed,  with  frightful 
swifthess,  to  the  bottom,  and  a  yard  or  two  up  the  side  they 
had  just  descended ;  then,  leaping  forward,  in  a  sort  of 
desperate  fury,  throwing  themselves  almost  flat  against  the 
steep,  every  glorious  muscle  quivering  with  its  tension,  they 
whirled  us  to  the  summit.  I  felt  my  blood  flush  and  my 
nerves  tingle,  as  if  I  had  witnessed  the  onset  of  a  forlorn 
hope. 

Finally,  the  valley,  growing  narrower,  wholly  lost  itself 
in  a  labyrinth  of  low,  steeply-rounded,  wooded  hills.  The 
road,  following  the  dry  bed  of  a  stream,  was  laboriously 
notched  in  the  sides  of  these  elevations.  There  was  barely 
room  for  a  single  veliiclc,  and  sometimes  the  hub  of  one 
wheel  would  graze  the  perpendicular  bank,  while  the  tiro 
of  the  other  rolled  on  the  very  brink  of  the  gulf  below  us. 


NEW   PICrUKES    FKOM    CALIFOBNIA.  89 

The  chasms  were  spanned  by  the  rudest  kind  of  corduroy 
bridges.  Bad  and  dangerous  as  the  road  was,  it  was  really 
a  matter  of  surprise  that  there  should  have  been  any  road 
at  all.  The  cost  of  the  work  must  have  been  considerable, 
as  the  canon  is  nearly  two  miles  in  length.  I  had  every 
confidence  in  the  sagacity  of  our  horses,  and  knew  that  our 
vehicle  could  safely  go  where  a  settler's  cart  had  already 
gone;  but  there  was  one  emergency,  the  possibility  of 
which  haunted  me  until  my  nerves  fairly  trembled.  What 
if  we  should  meet  another  vehicle  in  this  pass !  No  tui-n- 
ing  out,  no  backing,  often  not  even  the  chance  of  lowering 
one  of  them  by  ropes  until  the  other  could  pass !  The 
turnings  were  so  sharp  and  frequent,  that  it  was  impossible 
to  see  any  distance  ahead ;  and  I  approached  every  corner 
with  a  tempoi-ary  suspension  of  breath.  Suddenly,  in  the 
heart  of  the  canon,  Avhere  the  bays  exhaled  thick  fragrance 
in  the  hot  air,  a  dust  arose,  and  horses'  heads  appeared 
from  behind  a  rock.  My  heart  jumped  into  my  mouth  for 
an  instant,  then — riders,  thank  Heaven  ! 

"  Is  there  a  team  behind  you  ?''  I  cried. 

"  I  think  not,"  said  one  of  them.  "  Ilui'ry  on,  and  you're 
safe !" 

The  pass  opened  into  a  circular  valley,  behind  which 
towered,  in  the  east,  the  stupendous  bulk  of  Mount  St. 
Helene.  This  peak  received  its  name  from  the  Russian 
settlers,  as  a  compliment  to  the  Grand-Duchess  Helene. 
It  is  generally  called  St.  Helena  by  the  Americans — who, 
of  all  people,  have  least  sense  of  the  fitness  of  names.  The 
mountain,  5,000  feet  high,  rises  grandly  above  all  the 
neighboring  chains.     As  seen  from  this  point,  its  outline 


90  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

strikingly  resembles  that  of  a  recumbent  female  figm-e, 
hidden  under  a  pall  of  purple  velve*.  It  suggests  to  your 
mind  Coreggio's  Magdalen,  and  a  statue  of  St.  Cecilia  in 
one  of  the  churches  of  Rome.  The  head  is  raised  and 
propped  on  the  folded  arms ;  the  line  of  the  back  swells 
into  the  full,  softly-rounded  hip,  and  then  sweei^s  away 
downward  in  the  rich  curve  of  the  thigh.  Only  this  Titaness 
is  robed  in  imperial  hues.  The  yellow  mountains  around 
are  pale  by  contrast,  and  the  forests  of  giant  redwood 
seem  but  the  bed  of  moss  on  which  rests  her  purple  drapery. 

It  was  now  past  noon,  and  still  a  long  way  to  Napa 
City,  where  I  had  engaged  to  lecture  in  the  evening.  I 
supposed,  however,  that  we  were  already  in  ISTapa  Valley, 
with  all  the  rough  and  difficult  part  of  the  road  behind  us. 
Driving  up  to  the  first  settler's  shanty  I  accosted  a  coarse, 
sunburnt  fellow,  who  was  making  a  corral  for  pigs  and  cattle. 

"How  far  to  Napa?" 

*'  Well  (scratching  his  head),  I  don't  exactly  know." 

"  Is  this  Napa  Valley  ?''  I  then  asked. 

"  No,"  he  answered ;  "  this  is  Knight's  Valley.  You've 
got  to  pass  Knight's  afore  you  come  to  Napa." 

Presently,  another  man  came  up  with  a  lasso  in  his  hand, 
and  stated,  with  a  positive  air  of  knowledge  that  was  refresh- 
ing, that  we  had  thirty  miles  to  go.  In  doubtful  cases,  how- 
ever, I  never  trust  to  a  single  informant ;  and  this  was  the 
result  of  my  inquiries  in  passing  through  Knight's  Valley : 

Head  of  valley (to  Napa  City)  30  milea. 

A  inUo  further "        "  27     " 

Half  mile "        "  35     " 

One     "        "        "  45     " 

One-fourth  mile "        "  40(1)" 


NEW    PICTURES    FKOM    CALIFORXIA.  91 

After  this,  I  gave  up  the  attempt  in  despair,  being  satis- 
fied that  I  was  upon  the  right  road,  and  that  if  the  place 
could  be  reached,  I  should  reach  it.  At  Knight's,  near  the 
eastern  end  of  the  valley,  we  found  a  company  of  emigrants, 
who  had  just  crossed  the  plains,  and  were  hastening  on, 
dusty  and  way-worn,  to  settle  on  Russian  River.  The  men 
were  greasing  the  wheels  of  their  carts,  while  the  younger 
children  unhitched  and  watered  the  horses.  The  former 
had  a  sullen,  unfriendly  look — the  result  of  fatigue  and 
privation.  An  emigrant,  at  the  close  of  such  a  journey,  is 
the  least  social,  the  least  agreeable  of  men.  He  is  in  a 
bad  humor  with  the  world,  ^vith  life,  and  with  his  fellow- 
men.  Let  him  alone;  in  another  year,  when  his  harsh 
experience  has  been  softened  by  memory,  the  latent  kind- 
ness of  his  nature  returns — unless  he  be  an  incorrigible 
Pike.  Nothing  struck  me  more  pleasantly,  during  this  trip, 
than  the  uniform  courtesy  of  the  people  whom  we  met. 

Crossing  an  almost  imperceptible  divide,  after  leaving 
Knight's,  we  found  ourselves  in  Napa  Valley.  The  scenery 
wore  a  general  resemblance  to  that  of  Russian  River,  but 
was,  if  possible,  still  more  beautiful.  Mount  St.  Helene 
formed  a  majestic  rampart  on  the  north ;  the  mountain- 
walls  on  either  hand  were  higher,  more  picturesquely 
broken,  and  more  thickly  wooded ;  the  oaks  rising  from 
the  floor  of  the  valley,  were  heavier,  more  ancient — some 
of  them,  in  fact,  absolutely  colossal — and  fir-trees  two  hun- 
dred feet  in  height  rose  out  of  the  dark  glens.  A  wide, 
smooth  highway,  unbroken  by  arroyos,  carried  us  onward 
through  Druid  groves,  past  orchards  of  peach  and  fig, 
farm-cottages  nestled  in  roses,  fields  and  meadows,  and  the 


92  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

sunny  headlands  of  the  mountains.  It  was  a  region  of 
ravishing  beauty,  and  brought  back,  lovelier  than  before, 
the  day-dreams  which  had  haunted  me  in  the  valley  of  San 
Jos6. 

As  the  valley  grew  broader,  and  settlements  became  more 
frequent,  we  encountered  the  old  plague  of  dust.  The 
violet  mountains,  the  golden  fields,  even  the  arching  ave- 
nues of  the  evergreen  oaks  vanished  in  the  black  cloud, 
which  forced  me  to  close  my  eyes,  and  blindly  trust  to  the 

4 

horses.  To  add  to  our  discomfort,  we  were  obliged  to 
pass  drove  after  drove  of  cattle,  each  enveloped  in  almost 
impenetrable  darkness.  But  my  gallant  blacks  whirled  on, 
in  spite  of  it,  and  at  sunset  we  reached  a  gate  with  the 
inscription  "  Oak  Knoll" — the  welcome  buoy  which 
guided  us  into  our  harbor  for  the  night. 

Oak  Knoll  is  the  residence  of  Mr.  Osborne,  one  of  the 
largest  farmers  and  most  accomplished  horticulturists  in 
California.  His  ranche  of  1600  acres  is  on  the  western 
side  of  the  valley,  four  miles  north  of  Napa  City.  It  is  a 
princely  domain,  as  it  comes  from  the  hands  of  Nature,  and 
its  owner  has  sufficient  taste  not  to  meddle  unnecessarily 
with  her  work.  The  majestic  oaks  she  has  nurtured  for 
centuries  form  a  splendid  irregular  avenue  for  the  carriage- 
road  to  his  house,  which  stands  upon  the  mound  she  placed 
for  it,  sheltered  by  the  mountains  behind,  and  overlooking 
the  valley  in  front — no  glaring  mass  of  brick,  or  Grecian 
temple  with  a  kitchen  attached,  but  a  quaint  wooden 
structure,  full  of  queer  corners  and  gables,  which  seemed 
to  have  grown  by  gradual  accretion.  Its  quiet  gray 
tint,  framed  in  dark  green  foliage,  was  a  pleasant  relief 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFOENIA.  93 

to  the  eye,  after  looking  on  the  dazzling  colors  of  the  fields 
and  hills. 

After  riding  to  Napa  City  and  back  again  to  Oak  Knoll 
in  the  misty  night-air,  I  felt  satisfied  with  the  day's  work — 
twelve  miles  of  mountain-climbing,  fifty-five  in  a  vehicle, 
and  one  lecture  (equal,  under  the  circumstances,  to  fifteen 
more !).  The  next  evening,  however,  was  appropriated  to 
San  Francisco,  involving  another  journey  of  nearly  equal 
extent.  So,  with  the  first  streak  of  dawn,  I  tore  my  bruised 
body  from  the  delicious  embrace  of  the  bed,  and  prepared 
to  leave  the  castle.  The  steamer  to  San  Francisco  left 
Napa  on  alternate  days,  and  Tuesday  was  not  one  of  them. 
There  was  no  other  way,  then,  but  to  drive  to  Benicia,  cross 
the  Straits  of  Carquinez,  take  a  fresh  team  to  Oakland,  and 
catch  the  last  ferry-boat  across  the  Bay.  It  was  a  difficult 
imdertaking,  but  it  was  possible.  Mr.  Osborne,  to  whom 
there  is  no  such  word  as  "  fail,"  started  us  off  with  a  cheer- 
ing prediction  and  a  basket  of  his  choicest  fruit.  The  five 
dusty  miles  to  Napa  City  soon  lay  behind  us,  and  I  left  my 
Petaluina  team  at  a  livery  stable,  in  good  condition. 

The  distance  to  Benicia  was  estimated  at  tAventy-two 
miles.  It  was  necessary  that  I  should  reach  there  by  eleven 
o'clock,  as  the  ferry-boat  only  makes  a  trip  every  two  hours. 
I  asked  for  a  two-horse  buggy  and  driver,  which  the  stable- 
keeper  refused,  on  the  ground  that  there  was  no  use  for  it. 
A  less  expensive  team  would  do  the  business.  He  produced 
a  tall,  clean-limbed  dun  mare,  which  he  said  would  "  put 
you  through."  I  could  drive,  myself,  and  leave  the  team 
in  Benicia.  Ten  dollars.  There  was  really  no  time  to  make 
any  other  arrangement,  so  I  acquiesced — wondering  why  it 


94  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

is  that  the  liverymen  in  California  always  prefer  to  let  you 
drive  to  your  destination,  and  then  go  to  the  trouble  of 
sending  for  the  team.  I  never  obtained  a  driver — though  I 
always  offered  to  pay  especially  for  one — without  reluctance. 

It  was  half-past  eight  when  we  were  fairly  seated  and  in 
motion.  Napa  City,  by  daylight,  resembles  any  young 
Western  "city" — which  means,  a  very  moderate  specimen 
of  a  village.  There  were  two  or  three  blocks  of  low  houses, 
brick  and  frame,  ambitiously  stuck  against  each  other,  so  as 
to  present  a  metropolitan  appearance — outside  of  these  a 
belt  of  frame  cottages  inserted  in  small  garden-plots,  with 
here  and  there  the  ostentatious  two-story  residence  of  the 
original  speculator  and  the  "head-merchant,''  surmounted 
by  a  square  pigeon-box,  called  an  "  observatory" — we  all 
know  how  such  a  place  looks.  The  population  is  about 
eight  hundred,  and  not  likely  to  increase  very  fast,  as  the 
region  supplied  from  this  point  does  not  extend  beyond  the 
valley.  Just  below  the  town,  Napa  Creek  terminates  in  a 
tide-water  slough,  which  enters  the  Bay  of  San  Pablo  near 
Mare  Island,  forming  a  channel  for  vessels  of  light  draught. 
Tule  swamps,  forming  at  first  narrow  belts  on  both  sides 
of  this  slough,  gradually  widen  as  you  descend  the  valley, 
until,  at  its  mouth,  they  usurp  nearly  the  whole  of  its  sur- 
face. 

It  was  impossible  to  lose  the  road,  I  was  told.  I  there- 
fore drove  on  boldly,  occupied  with  getting  the  dun  mare 
gradually  warmed  up  to  her  best  speed,  until  I  noticed  that 
we  had  entered  a  lateral  valley,  which  lost  itself  in  a  deep 
caiion  between  two  mountains  to  the  eastward.  The  road 
was  broad  and  well-travelled;  but  after  proceeding  two 


NEW   PICTUEES    FKOM    CALIFORNIA.  95 

miles,  it  split  into  several  branches.  I  began  to  suspect  that 
we  were  on  the  wi'ong  trail,  and  therefore  hailed  two  women 
who  were  washing  clothes  near  a  shanty.  They  pointed  to 
the  main  branch,  which,  I  could  see,  climbed  the  mountain, 
assuring  me  that  it  was  the  road  to  Suscol — the  first  stage 
on  the  way  to  Benicia.  The  broad  slope  of  the  mountain 
was  covered  with  a  stream  of  lava,  from  an  eruption  thou- 
sands of  years  ago.  The  rough  blocks  had  been  cleared 
away  from  the  road,  but  the  ascent  was  still  very  toilsome. 
Twisted  live-oaks  partly  shaded  the  highway ;  above  us 
towered  the  mountain,  bare  and  yellow,  while  the  canon, 
on  our  left,  sank  suddenly  into  a  gulf  of  blue  vapor.  It  was 
a  singularly  wild  and  picturesque  spot,  and  I  marvelled  that 
my  friends  had  made  no  mention  of  it. 

From  the  summit  we  had  a  prospect  of  great  beauty. 
All  Napa  Valley,  bounded  to  the  west  by  the  range  which 
divides  it  from  Sonoma,  lay  at  our  feet — the  transparent 
golden  hue  of  the  landscaj)e  changing  through  lilac  into 
violet  as  it  was  swallowed  up  in  the  airy  distance.  The 
white  houses  of  the  town  gleamed  softly  in  the  centre  of 
the  picture.  I  gave  our  animal  but  a  short  breathing-spell, 
and  hurried  on,  expecting  to  find  a  divide,  and  a  valley  be- 
yond, opening  southward  toward  the  Straits  of  Carquinez. 
I  was  doomed,  however,  to  disappointment.  There  was 
no  divide  ;  the  road  became  very  rough  and  irregular,  with 
side-hill  sections,  as  it  wound  among  the  folded  peaks.  We 
passed  the  shanty  of  a  settler,  but  nobody  was  at  home — 
the  tents  and  wagons  of  an  emigrant  party,  deserted, 
although  recently-washed  shirts  and  petticoats  hung  on  the 
bushes ;  and,  to  crown  all,  no  one  was  abroad  in  the  road. 


96  AT    HOME    AXD    ABROAD. 

Presently,  side-trails  began  to  branch  oiF  into  the  glens ; 
the  main  trail,  which  I  kept,  became  fainter,  and  finally — 
two  miles  further — terminated  altogether  in  front  of  a 
lonely  cabin ! 

A  terrible  misgiving  seized  me.  To  miss  one's  way  is 
disagreeable  under  any  circumstances ;  but  to  miss  it  when 
every  minute  is  of  value,  is  one  of  those  misfortunes  which 
gives  U6  a  temporary  disgust  toward  life.  I  sprang  from 
the  buggy,  halloed,  tried  the  doors — all  in  vain.  "  O  ye 
generation  of  vipers !"  I  cried  ;  "  are  ye  never  at  home  ?" 
Delay  was  equally  impracticable ;  so  I  turned  the  horse's 
head,  and  drove  rapidly  back.  A  boy  of  eighteen,  who 
came  down  one  of  the  glens  on  horseback,  thought  we 
Avere  on  the  right  road,  but  wasn't  sure.  At  last  I  espied 
a  shanty  at  a  little  distance ;  and,  leaving  the  buggy,  has- 
tened thither  across  a  ploughed  field,  taking  six  furi'ows  at  a 
stride.  A  homely  woman,  with  two  upper  teeth,  was  doing 
some  washing  under  a  live-oak.  "  Which  is  the  road  to 
Benicia  ?"  I  gasped.  "  Lord  bless  you !"  she  exclaimed, 
"  where  did  you  come  from  ?''  I  pointed  to  the  canon. 
"  Sakes  alive  !  that's  jist  right  wrong !  Why  didn't  you 
keep  to  the  left  ?  Now  you've  got  to  go  back  to  Napa, 
leastways  close  on  to  it,  and  then  go  down  the  valley,  fol- 
lerin'  the  telegraph  poles.'' 

Talk  of  a  "  sinking  of  the  heart !"  My  midriff*  gave  way 
with  a  crash,  and  the  heart  fell  a  thousand  leagues  in  a 
second.  I  became  absolutely  sick  with  the  despairing  sense 
of  failure.  Here  we  were,  in  the  mountains,  seven  miles 
from  Napa,  all  of  which  must  be  retraced.  It  was  a  doubt- 
ful chance  whether  we  could  reach  Benicia  in  season  for  the 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  97 

next  ferry-boat,  at  1  p.  m. — and  then,  how  were  we  to  cross 
the  mountains  to  Oakland  (twenty -five  miles)  by  5  p.  m.  ? 
It  had  been  my  boast  that  I  always  kept  my  appointments. 
During  the  previous  winter  I  had  lectured  135  times  in  six 
months  without  making  a  failure.  I  had  ridden  all  night 
in  a  buggy,  chartered  locomotives,  spent,  in  some  instances, 
more  than  I  received,  but  always  kept  the  appointment.  I 
had  assured  my  doubting  friends  in  San  Francisco  that  no- 
thing short  of  an  eai'thquake  should  prevent  me  from  return- 
ing in  season :  yet  here  I  was,  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  fore- 
noon, with  sixty-six  miles  of  mountains,  bays  and  straits  to 
be  overcome  !  The  merchant  who  loses  half  his  fortune  by 
an  unlucky  venture  is  a  cheerful  man,  if  his  sensations  could 
be  measured  with  mine. 

I  do  not  know  whether  other  lecturers  experience  the 
same  weight  of  responsibility.  If  they  do,  there  is  no  more 
anxious  and  unhappy  class  of  men.  The  smallest  part  of 
the  disappointment,  in  case  of  failure,  falls  upon  tlie  lecturer 
himself.  In  the  first  place,  the  evening  has  been  chosen  by 
the  association  which  engages  him,  with  a  nice  regard  to 
pecuniary  success.  Nothing  else  must  interfere,  to  divide 
the  attendance  of  the  public.  In  the  second  place,  five 
hundred,  or  a  thousand,  or  three  thousand  people,  as  the 
case  may  be,  hurry  their  tea,  or  decline  invitations,  or  travel 
many  miles,  in  order  to  attend  ;  they  "  come  early  to  secure 
good  seats,"  wait  an  hour  or  two — the  dreariest  of  all  expe- 
riences— and  then  go  home.  It  is  no  agreeable  sensation 
to  be  responsible  for  the  disappointment  of  one  individual : 
multiply  this  by  a  thousand,  and  you  will  have  the  sum 
total  of  my  anxiety  and  distress. 

5 


98  AT    HOME    AND   ABUOAD. 

Back  again,  through  the  wild  canon  ;  down  the  steep, 
whence  the  landscape,  so  sunny  before,  now  looked  dark 
and  wintry ;  over  the  bed  of  lava  ;  across  the  bottom-land, 
and  over  the  hill  we  went — until,  just  in  the  outskirts  of 
Napa  City,  we  found  the  telegraph  poles  and  a  broad  road 
leading  down  the  valley.  Two  hours  and  a  half  were  still 
left  us  for  the  twenty-two  miles.  The  dun  mare  was  full 
of  spirit,  and  I  began  to  pluck  up  a  little  spirit  also.  Roll- 
ing along  over  low,  treeless  hills,  we  reached  Suscol  (five 
miles)  in  half  an  hour.  The  dun  mare  whisked  her  tail  and 
stretched  out  her  head ;  her  hoofs  beat  a  lively  tattoo  on 
the  hard,  dry  soil,  as  she  trotted  off  mile  after  mile,  without 
a  break.  A  cool  wind  blew  up  from  the  bay,  bringing  us 
balsam  from  the  fields,  and  the  ride  would  have  been  glo- 
rious, if  we  could  have  enjoyed  it.  A  carriage  travelling 
the  same  way  enveloped  us  in  dust.  I  submitted  to  this,  as 
we  were  approaching  the  town  of  Vallejo,  opposite  Mare 
Island,  by  avoiding  which  we  could  save  a  mile  or  more, 
and  I  had  a  presentiment  that  the  carriage  was  bound  for 
Benicia.  True  enough,  it  struck  into  an  open  trail ;  I  fol- 
lowed, and  in  fifteen  minutes  found  myself  on  the  main 
road  to  Benicia.  For  this  service  I  thanked  the  travellers, 
by  pushing  ahead  and  giving  them  clouds  of  dust  to  swal- 
low. The  straits  of  Carquinez  lay  on  our  right,  sparkling 
in  the  sun.  The  road  crossed  the  feet  of  the  bare,  yellow 
hills,  upon  which  the  sun  beat  with  culinary  force ;  flecks 
of  foam  gathered  on  the  mare's  hide,  but  she  still  stepped 
out  merrily,  and  at  a  quai'ter  before  one  we  were  in 
Benicia. 

The  ferry-boat,  I  found,  did  not  leave  before  half-past 


KEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  09 

one,  and  consumed  half  an  hour  in  crossing  the  Strait  to 
Martinez,  This  left  me  but  three  hours  and  a  half  for  the 
journey  thither  to  Oakland.  Clearly  it  would  be  impos- 
sible to  make  the  trip  over  the  mountains  in  a  vehicle — but 
it  might  be  done  on  horseback.  I  therefore  decided  to 
leave  my  wife  in  Benicia  (whence  she  could  reach  San  Fran- 
cisco by  the  evening  boat  from  Sacramento)  and  try  my 
further  luck  alone.  Having  telegraphed  to  San  Francisco 
that  if  I  should  not  arrive  in  the  last  boat  from  Oakland,  it 
was  to  be  specially  sent  back  for  me,  regardless  of  expense, 
there  was  nothing  furthe»  to  be  done.  Dinner  was  upon 
the  table  at  the  hotel,  but  although  I  had  driven  forty-one 
miles  since  breakfast,  I  found  it  impossible  to  eat. 

While  waiting  at  the  pier  for  the  ferry-boat,  a  man  came 
up  hastily,  saying : 

"Have  you  heard  the  news?  Broderick  is  killed!" 
"  What  ?"  "  When  ?"  "  How  ?»  rang  on  all  sides. 
"  This  morning — there  is  a  telegraj^hic  dispatch — Judge 
Terry  shot  him.  Broderick  is  dead,  and  Terry  has  run 
away !"  "  Well,"  said  one  of  the  bystanders,  "  it's  no  more 
than  was  expected."  This  was  true,  in  fact.  I  had  already, 
a  dozen  times,  at  least,  heard  the  prediction :  "  Broderick 
will  be  killed  after  the  election  is  over."  I  do  not  suppose 
that  there  was  really  anything  like  a  conspiracy  to  that  end, 
as  his  friends  afterwards  charged  ;  but  from  the  virulence 
which  marked  the  campaign,  a  series  of  duels  was  antici- 
pated, in  one  of  which  he  would  probably  fall.  No  man  in 
California  had  warmer  friends  or  bitterer  enemies. 

The  boat  was  delayed  by  taking  on  board  a  herd  of  cat- 
tle, and  it  was  a  quarter  past  two  before  I  landed  at  Mar- 


100  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

tinez.  I  hastened  up  the  long  pier,  and  up  the  hot  village 
street,  until  I  discovered  a  livery  stable.  The  keeper  was 
lounging  indolently  in  the  shade,  and  the  horses  seemed  to 
be  dozing  in  their  stalls.  "  Can  I  magnetize  this  repose, 
and  extract  speed  from  it  ?"  was  the  question  I  put  to 
myself;  whereupon  the  following  dialogue  ensued  : — 

"  I  must  reach  Oakland  in  time  for  the  last  boat  for 
San  Francisco.  Give  me  two  fast  saddle-horses  and  a 
guide." 

"  It  can't  be  done !"  (with  a  lazy  smile.) 

"  It  must  be  done  !  What  is  the  shortest  time  you  have 
done  it  in  ?" 

"  Four  hours." 

"  How  much  do  you  get — two  horses  and  a  man  ?" 

"  Fifteen  dollars." 

"  You  shall  have  twenty-five — saddle  the  horses  imme- 
diately." 

"  There's  no  use  in  taking  saddle-horses — a  two-horse 
buggy  will  get  along  faster." 

"  Get  it  then  !     Instantly  !     Don't  lose  a  second !" 

He  was  magnetized  at  last.  The  pass  which  I  made  over 
the  region  of  his  pocket,  subjected  him  to  my  will.  Hos- 
tlers, horses,  and  vehicles,  were  magnetized,  also.  There 
was  running  hither  and  thither — examination  of  bolts, 
buckling  of  straps,  comparison  of  horses — chaotic  tumult 
burst  out  of  slumber.  At  half-past  two  I  jumped  into  the 
buggy.  We  had  exactly  three  hours  in  which  to  make  a 
journey  of  twenty-five  miles,  by  a  rough  road,  crossing  a 
mountain  range  two  thousand  feet  high.  The  horses  were 
small,  not  handsome,  but  with  an  air  of  toughness  and 


NEW  PICTUKES  FROM   CALIFORNIA.  101 

courage :  the  driver  had  the  face*of  a  man  who  possesses  a 
conscience.  These  were  encouraging  signs.  My  spiritual 
mercury  immediately  rose  to  fifteen  degrees  above  zero. 

It  Avas  hard,  though,  to  sit  still  while  we  drove  mode- 
rately up  the  hot  glen  behind  Martinez,  waiting  for  the 
horses  to  get  the  requisite  wind  and  flexibility  of  muscle. 
I  quieted  my  restless  nerves  with  a  cigar,  sufficiently  to 
enjoy  the  Arcadian  beauty  of  the  scenery.  Clumps  of 
evergreen  oak,  bay,  and  sycamore,  marked  the  winding 
course  of  the  stream ;  white  cottages,  embowered  in  fig- 
trees,  nestled  at  the  foot  of  the  hills,  every  opening  fold  of 
which  disclosed  a  fresh  picture ;  and  to  the  eastward  tow- 
ered, in  airy  purple,  the  duplicate  peak  of  Monte  Diablo. 
Out  of  this  glen  we  passed  over  low  hills  into  another,  and 
still  another,  enjoying  exquisite  views  of  the  valleys  of 
Pacheco  and  San  Ramon,  with  Suisun  Bay  in  the  distance. 
The  landscapes,  more  contracted  than  those  of  Napa  and 
San  Jose,  had  a  pastoral,  idyllic  chai'acter,  and  I  was  sur- 
prised to  find  how  much  loveliness  is  concealed  in  the  heart 
of  mountains  which,  as  seen  from  the  Bay,  appear  so  bare 
and  bleak.  Scarcely  any  portion  of  the  land  was  unclaimed. 
Farm  succeeded  to  farm,  and  little  villages  were  already 
growing  up  in  the  broader  valleys. 

The  afternoon  sun  burned  our  faces,  though  a  light 
breeze  tempered  the  heat  enough  to  allow  our  horses  to  do 
their  best.  I  urged  upon  the  driver  the  necessity  of  mak- 
ing all  he  could  at  the  start,  and  evaded  his  inquiries  with 
regard  to  the  time.  This  plan  worked  so  well  that  we 
reached  a  village  called  Lafayette,  thirteen  miles  from 
Martinez,  in  one  hour  and  ten  minutes.     Here  we  watered 


102  AT    HOME   AJfD    ABROAD. 

the  horses,  and  I  lighted  |i  fresh  cigar.  The  mercury  liad 
risen  to  32°.  Beyond  this_  extended  a  wild,  winding  valley, 
some  three  or  four  miles  in  length,  to  the  foot  of  the  high 
range.  The  hills  shut  us  in  closely :  settlements  became 
scanty,  and  at  last  we  entered  a  narrow  gorge,  through 
which  the  road  had  been  cut  with  much  labor.  A  clear 
brook  murmured  at  the  bottom ;  bay-leaves  scented  the  air, 
and  climbing  vines  fell  over  us  in  showers,  from  the 
branches  of  the  trees.  Through  the  dark  walls  in  front 
rose  the  blue  steep  of  the  mountain  which  we  were  obhged 
to  scale.  The  roughness  of  the  road  and  the  chance  of 
being  stopped  by  meeting  another  team  could  not  wholly 
spoil  my  delight  in  the  wild  beauty  of  this  pass. 

N"ow  we  grappled  with  the  bare  mountain-side,  up  which 
the  road  zigzagged  out  of  sight,  far  above.  Of  course,  it 
was  impossible  for  the  horses  to  proceed  faster  than  a  walk, 
and  the  lingering  remnants  of  my  anxiety  were  lost  sight 
of  in  the  necessity  of  preserving  the  equilibrium  of  our 
vehicle  on  those  sidelong  grades.  We  leaned,  first  to  the 
right  and  then  to  the  left,  changing  at  every  turn,  to  keep 
our  wheels  upon  the  slippery  plane,  until  the  shoulder  of 
the  range  was  surmounted,  and  we  saw  the  comb  about 
half  a  mile  distant.  From  the  summit  we  looked  down,  as 
from  the  eaves  of  a  house,  into  the  throat  of  a  precipitous 
caiion  which  yawned  below  us.  Between  its  overlapping 
sides  glimmered,  far  away,  a  little  triangle  of  the  Bay  of  San 
Francisco.  Now,  let  us  see  how  much  time  is  left  to  reach 
the  shores  of  that  blue  vision?  Fifty-five  minutes !  The 
mercury  immediately  sank  to  10". 

What  a  plunge  it  was  until  we  reached  the  bottom  of  thf 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  103 

summit-wall,  where  the  first  springs  gushed  forth ! — and 
how  the  horses  held  back,  with  our  weight  pressing  uj)on 
them,  was  more  than  I  could  understand.  The  narrow 
canon  then  received  us,  and  the  horses,  as  if  maddened  with 
the  previous  restraint,  dashed  recklessly  down  the  shelving 
road,  which,  as  it  crossed  from  one  side  to  the  other,  back 
and  forth,  obliged  us  to  fling  our  weight  always  on  the 
uppermost  wheels.  From  the  rapidity  of  their  descent,  a 
little  jolt  would  have  been  sufiicient  to  have  hurled  us  over 
into  the  bed  of  the  stream.  The  excitement  of  the  race 
made  us  pierfectly  regardless  of  the  danger :  there  was  even 
a  keen  sense  of  enjoyment,  to  me,  in  the  mad,  reckless  man- 
ner in  which  we  turned  the  sharp  corners  of  the  ravine,  or 
spun  along  brinks  where  the  pebbles,  displaced  by  our 
wheels,  rattled  on  stones  twenty  feet  below.  Neither  of  us 
said  a  word,  but  held  fast  for  life,  flinging  our  bodies  half 
out  of  the  vehicle  as  the  road  shifted  sides.  There  was  one 
fear  hanging  over  us,  but  we  no  more  mentioned  it  than  the 
Alpine  traveller  would  shout  under  the  poised  avalanche 
which  the  sound  of  his  voice  might. start  from  its  bed. 

Corner  after  corner  was  passed ;  the  horizon  of  the  Bay, 
seen  through  the  gap  in  front,  sank  lower,  and  the  inter- 
vening plain  glimpsed  nearer.  Then  a  house  appeared — lo ! 
the  end  of  the  canon,  and  in  fifteen  minutes  from  the  top 
we  had  made  the  descent  of  more  than  two  miles !  We 
both,  at  the  same  instant,  drew  a  long,  deep  breath  of  relief, 
and  the  driver  spoke  out  the  thought  which  was  in  my  own 
mind.  "That's  what  I  was  afraid  of,"  said  he,  without 
further  explanation.  "So  AvasI,"  was  my  answer.  "I  didn't 
say  a  word  about  it,  for  fear  talking  of  it  would  make  it 


104  AT    HOME   AN^D    ABROAD. 

happen — but  think,  if  we  had  met  another  team  on  the  way 
down !"  "  But  we  didnH,''''  I  shouted  ;  "  and  now  we'll 
catch  the  boat !  And  my  thermometer  stands  at  90° — and 
the  world  is  beautiful — and  life  is  glorious — and  all  men 
are  my  brethren !"  He  smiled  a  quiet,  satisfied  smile, 
merely  remarking :  "  I  thought  I'd  do  it.*' 

The  remaining  trot  of  five  miles  over  the  plain  was  child's 
play,  compared  with  what  we  had  done.  When  our  smok- 
ing and  breathless  horses  were  pulled  up  on  the  steamboat 
pier  at  Oakland,  there  were  just  eight  minutes  to  spare ! 
We  had  made  the  trip  from  Martinez  in  two  hours  and  fifty- 
two  minutes — the  shortest  time  in  which  it  had  ever  been 
accomplished.  The  bystanders,  to  whom  my  driver  trium- 
phantly proclaimed  his  feat,  would  not  believe  it.  I  paid 
the  stipulated  twenty-five  dollars  with  the  greatest  cheer- 
fulness— evei-y  penny  of  it  had  been  well  earned — jumped 
aboard  the  fei-ry-boat,  and  threw  myself  on  one  of  the  cabin 
sofas  with  an  exquisite  feeling  of  relief.  The  anxiety  I  had 
endured  through  the  day  wholly  counteracted  the  fatigue 
of  the  journey,  and  the  excitement  continued  without  the 
usual  reaction.  When  we  reached  San  Francisco,  at  seven 
o'clock,  I  found  my  friends  waiting  for  me  on  the  pier. 
They  had  arranged  to  send  the  boat  back  in  case  I  should 
not  arrive,  which  would  have  cost  one  hundred  dollars. 

Fortifying  myself  with  repeated  doses  of  strong  coffee 
(for  there  was  no  time  to  get  dinner),  I  made  my  appear- 
ance on  the  rostrum  at  the  appointed  hour.  My  face  was 
baked  and  blistered  by  the  sun,  and  my  lungs  somewhat 
exhausted  by  the  day's  labors,  but  I  went  througli  the  dis- 
course of  an  hour  and  a  half  with  very  little  more  than  the 


NEW   PICTUKES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  105 

usual  fatigue.  At  the  close,  when  I  felt  inclined  to  congra- 
tulate myself  a  little,  I  was  rather  taken  aback  by  my  friends, 
who  seeing  my  fiery  face,  and  knowing  nothing  of  the  day's 
struggle,  exclaimed,  with  wicked  insinuation :  "  You  have 
been  dining  out  this  evening !"  At  ten  o'clock,  my  wife 
arrived  in  the  Sacramento  boat,  and  our  supper  at  the  Ori- 
ental was  a  happy  finis  to  the  eventful  day. 


5. — The  Sacbamento  Valley. 

Before  completing  my  engagement  at  San  Francisco,  I 
had  already  made  arrangements  for  a  lecturing  tour 
through  the  interior  of  the  State.  Literary  associations  are 
few  in  California :  the  prosperity  of  the  mining  towns  is,  in 
general,  too  precarious — their  population  too  shifting — to 
encourage  the  growth  of  permanent  institutions  of  this 
character ;  and  the  lecturer,  consequently,  misses  the  shel- 
ter and  assistance  to  which  he  has  been  accustomed  at 
home.  He  must  accept  the  drudgery  along  with  the  jDrofit. 
I  confess  that,  after  my  previous  experience,  the  undertak- 
ing was  not  tempting ;  but  while  it  was  incumbent  upon 
me  to  visit  the  mining  regions  before  leaving  California,  it 
was  also  prudent  to  make  the  visit  (such  is  human  nature !) 
pecuniarily  advantageous.  For  Sacramento  and  the  moun- 
tain-towns, I  secured  the  services  of  Mr.  E ,  news-agent, 

as  avantrcoureur^  hirer  of  theatres,  poster  of  placards,  and 
distributer  of  complimentary  tickets. 

This  arrangement   took  the  drudgery  of  the   business 

5* 


106  AT   HOME    AND    A.BBOAD. 

off  my  hands,  it  is  true ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  it  brought 
me  before  the  public  in  a  new  and  less  agreeable  character. 
No  longer  the  invited  guest  of  societies — no  longer  intro- 
duced to  audiences  by  the  presidents  thereof — I  fell  to  the 
level  of  itinerant  phrenologists  and  exhibitors  of  nitrous 
oxide  gas :  nay — let  me  confess  it — I  could  no  longer  look 
down  uj3on  the  Ethiopian  minstrel,  or  refuse  to  fratei'nize 
with  the  strolling  wizard.  It  did  not  surprise  me,  therefore, 
that  the  principal  of  a  classical  academy,  in  a  town  which 
shall  be  nameless,  not  only  refused  to  hear  me,  but  denied 
permission  to  his  scholars.  "  He  is  an  author !''  exclaimed 
this  immaculate  pedagogue ;  "  yet  he  degrades  his  calling 
by  thus  appearing  before  the  public.  I  have  too  much 
respect  for  authors  to  countenance  such  degradation  !'' 

My  lecture  in  Sacramento  was  to  take  place  on  Saturday, 
and  my  friend,  Judge  Hastings,  of  Benicia,  arranged  for 
the  previous  evening  at  the  latter  place.  Preparing  our- 
selves, therefore,  for  a  month's  journey,  we  left  San  Fran- 
cisco in  the  afternoon  boat. 

About  twenty-five  miles  from  the  Golden  Gate,  the 
Bay  of  Pablo  terminates,  and  we  enter  the  Straits  of 
Carquinez,  which  connect  it  with  Suisun  Bay,  the  reservoir 
of  the  Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin  valleys,  lying  beyond 
the  Coast  Range.  These  straits  are  from  six  to  seven 
miles  in  length,  with  a  breadth  vai'ying  from  half  a  mile  to 
four  miles.  With  their  bold  shores,  and  their  varying 
succession  of  bays  and  headlands  on  either  side,  they  have 
been  compared  to  the  Bosphorus — which,  indeed,  they  sur- 
pass in  natural  beauty.  When  the  hills,  folding  together 
in  softly-embracing  swells,  which  give  the  eye  a  delight 


NEW  PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  107 

like  that  of  perfect  music  to  the  ear,  and  now  draped  in 
gilded  velvet  as  the  sunset  strikes  along  their  sides,  shall 
be  terraced,  with  gardens  of  never-fading  bloom — when, 
besides  the  live-oak,  the  dark  pillars  of  the  cypress,  the 
umbelliferous  crowns  of  the  Italian  pine  and  the  plumy 
tufts  of  the  hardy  Chinese  palm  shall  flourish  in  their  shel- 
tering arms,  and  when  mansion  on  mansion  shall  line  the 
water's  edge,  with  balconies  overhanging  the  tide,  and 
boats  tossing  at  the  marble  steps — then  the  magnificent 
water-street  which  leads  from  Constantinople  to  the  Euxine 
will  find  itself  not  only  rivalled,  but  surpassed. 

As  the  sun  went  down,  in  a  blaze  of  more  than  Medi- 
terranean beauty,  we  reached  Benicia.  In  1849,  many 
persons  actually  supposed  that  this  place  would  become 
the  commercial  metropolis  of  the  Pacific,  and  speculation 
raged  among  the  lots  staked  out  all  over  its  barren 
hills.  Vessels  of  the  largest  tonnage  could  lie  close  to 
the  shore,  said  they — forgetting  that  it  was  possible  to 
build  piers  at  San  Francisco.  There  was  a  fine  back- 
country — as  if  all  California  were  not  the  back-country 
of  its  metropolis !  In  fact,  there  was  no  end  to  the  argu- 
ments (especially  if  you  owned  a  lot)  advanced  to  prove 
that  San  Francisco  must  go  down,  and  Benicia  must  go 
up !  But  Commerce  is  a  wilful  and  a  stubborn  goddess. 
She  pitches  on  a  place  by  a  sort  of  instinct,  and  all  the 
coaxing  and  forcing  in  the  world  won't  budge  her  a  jot. 
Benicia  was  made  the  headquarters  of  the  Army — but  it 
didn't  help  the  matter.  Lots  were  given  away,  shanties 
built,  all  kinds  of  inducements  ofiered — still,  trade  wouldn't 
come.     It  was  made  the  State  capital — but,  alas !  it  is  not 


108  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

even  the  county  seat  at  present.  It  is  still  the  same  bare 
looking,  straggling  place  as  when  I  first  saw  it,  but  with 
more  and  better  houses,  the  big  brick  barracks  of  the  sol- 
diers, and  the  workshops  of  the  Pacific  Steamship  Company. 
The  population  is  about  3,000. 

I  have  no  doubt  the  failure  of  his  plan  bi'oke  old  Scrapie's 
heart.  Robert  Semple,  the  lank  Indiana  giant — one  of  the 
first  emigrants  to  California,  and  the  President  of  the  Con- 
stitutional Convention  at  Monterey — owned  a  great  part  of 
the  land,  and  it  would  bring,  he  believed,  millions  of  money 
into  his  coffers.  He  never  spoke  of  San  Francisco,  but 
with  the  bitterest  disgust.  "  Augh  !"  he  exclaimed  to  me, 
as  we  once  camped  together  in  the  Pajaro  Valley ;  "  don't 
mention  the  name :  *it  makes  me  sick !"  If  this  feeling  was 
general  among  the  speculators,  there  must  have  been  a 
great  many  invalids  in  California  about  that  time. 

The  superb,  solitary  mass  of  Monte  Diablo,  robed  in  the 
violet  mist  of  twilight,  rose  before  us  as  we  landed  at  Beni- 
cia.  Monte  Diablo  is  a  more  graceful  peak  than  Soracte  : 
he  reproduces, the  forms  as  well  as  the  tints  of  the  stoi'ied 
mountains  of  Greece.  Like  Helicon  or  Hymettus,  he  over- 
looks a  ruin.  At  his  base,  on  the  shore  of  Suisun  Bay,  ano- 
ther metropolis  was  founded  by  Col.  Stevenson,  who  com- 
manded the  New  York  Regiment  sent  to  California  in  1 846. 
He  called  his  embryo  city  (Heaven  help  us !)  "  New-York- 
of-the-Pacific !"  Nature  tolerates  many  strange  names  in 
our  United  States,  but  this  was  more  than  she  could  stand. 
In  1849, 1  saw  three  houses  there ;  and  then^  one  could  not 
venture  to  laugh  at  beginnings.  What  was  my  joy,  when 
I  now  beheld  only  two  houses — one  of  them  uninhabited — 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  109 

and  was  informed  that  the  shore  was  covered  with  the  ske- 
letons of  musquitos  which  had  died  of  starvation  ! 

To  keep  my  engagement  at  Sacramento  the  next  evening, 
it  was  necessary  that  we  should  make  the  journey  thitlier 
by  land,  a  distance  of  sixty  miles.  After  riding  in  a  jolting 
stage  around  the  great  tule  marsh,  to  Suisun  City,  twenty 
miles  off,  I  had  the  -good  luck  to  meet  a  gentleman  who 
placed  a  two-horse  team  at  our  disposal.  We  were  thus 
free  to  finish  the  journey  on  our  old  independent  footing. 

The  day  was  cloudless,  and  intensely  hot,  and  even  the 
dry,  yellow  grass  appeared  to  have  been  scorched  off  the 
cracked  and  blistered  earth.  Low  undulations  of  soil  rolled 
away  before  us,  until  the  plain  vanished  in  fiery  haze,  and 
the  wind  which  blew  over  it  was  as  the  blast  from  out  a 
furnace.  At  intervals  of  four  or  five  miles,  we  found  a  set- 
tler's cabin,  with  its  accompanying  corral  and  garden,  and 
a  windmill,  lazily  turning  in  the  heated  gusts.  Miles  away 
on  our  right,  a  blue  line  of  timber  marked  the  course  of  the 
Sacramento  River,  apparently  separated  from  us  by  a  lake, 
dotted  with  island-like  clumps  of  trees.  Every  distant 
depression  of  the  plain  was  filled  with  the  same  illusive  water. 
Newly-arrived  emigrants,  unacquainted  with  the  mirage, 
often  ride  far  out  of  their  trail,  in  the  endeavor  to  reach 
these  airy  pools.  An  accustomed  eye  has  no  difficulty  in 
detecting  them,  as  the  color  is  always  that  of  the  sky, 
whereas  real  water  is  a  darker  blue. 

After  a  steady  travel  of  nearly  five  hours,  the  road 
swerved  to  the  right,  and  ascended  an  artificial  dyke,  or 
embankment,  which  has  been  made  with  much  labor,  in 
order  to  raise  it  above  the  reach  of  the  winter  floods.     At 


110  AT   HOaiE   AND   ABROAD. 

intervals  of  fifty  or  a  hundred  yards,  there  are  bridges,  to 
allow  passage  for  the  water :  and  I  think  we  must  have 
crossed  twenty-five  of  them  in  the  distance  of  a  mile.  On 
either  side  were  dried-up  swamps  of  giant  tule.  This 
causeway  conducted  us  to  the  river-bank,  which  is  consi- 
derably higher  than  the  plain  in  its  rear.  Thence,  for  six 
miles,  we  followed  the  course  of  the  stream — the  road,  deep 
in  dust,  winding  among  golden  and  purple  thickets,  which 
exhaled  the  most  delicious  fragrance,  and  under  the  arching 
arms  of  the  oak  and  sycamore.  It  was  a  storehouse  of 
artistic  foregrounds.  I  know  not  which  charmed  us  most 
— the  balmy,  shadowed  sweetness  of  the  air,  the  dazzling 
gaps  of  sunshine,  the  picturesque  confusion  of  forms,  or  the 
splendid  contrasts  of  color. 

Four  miles  below  Sacramento,  we  crossed  the  river  on  a 
ferry-scow,  and  hastened  onward  through  Sutterville ;  for 
the  sun  was  nigh  his  setting.  A  cloud  of  white  dust  hid 
the  city,  and  lay  thick  and  low  all  over  the  plain.  Increas- 
ing in  volume,  huge,  billowy  eddies  of  it  rolled  toward  us, 
and  we  were  presently  blinded  by  the  clouds  that  arose 
from  our  own  wheels.  Of  the  last  two  miles  of  the  drive  I 
can  say  nothing — for  I  saw  nothing.  Often  there  was  a 
rattling  of  wheels  near  me,  as  the  strings  of  vehicles  return- 
ing from  the  fair-grounds  passed  by ;  but  the  horses  instinct- 
ively avoided  a  collision.  I  shut  my  eyes,  and  held  my 
breath  as  much  as  possible,  until  there  came  a  puff  of  fresher 
air,  and  I  found  myself  in  one  of  the  watered  streets  of  the 
city.  Blinded,  choked,  and  sun-burned,. we  alighted  at  the 
St.  George  Hotel,  and  were  so  lucky  as  to  find  a  room. 
The  city,  like  San  Francisco,  was  altogether  a  different 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALlPOElSrrA.  ]lj 

place  from  the  picture  in  my  memory.  Having  been  not 
only  laid  in  ashes,  but  completely  washed  away  by  the 
inundation  of  1853,  not  a  house  remains  from  the  pioneer 
times.  It  was,  in  reality,  only  six  years  old — a  fact  which 
accounted  for  the  light  character  of  much  of  the  architec- 
ture, and  the  unusual  number  of  one-story  buildings.  The 
streets  are  broad,  inflexibly  right-angled,  and  prosaically 
named  after  the  numerals,  and  the  letters  of  the  alphabet. 
The  business  portion  ^f  the  city  extends  five  or  six  blocks 
back  from  the  river,  and  a  greater  distance  along  J,  K,  and 
L  streets.  Beyond  this  region,  there  are  many  beautiful 
private  residences  and  gardens.  The  place  is  greatly 
admired  by  its  inhabitants,  but  the  uniformity  of  surface 
and  plan  made  it  appear  tame  and  monotonous,  after  San 
Francisco. 

The  first  thing  I  looked  for,  and  totally  missed,  was  the 
profusion  of  grand,  ancient  oaks  and  sycamores,  which  once 
adorned  the  streets.  Every  one  had  fallen — some  destroyed 
in  the  conflagration,  but  the  most  part  cut  down,  because 
they  interfered  with  buildings,  or  dropped  their  aged  limbs 
in  a  storm.  Their  place  was  miserably  filled  with  rows  of 
young  cottonwoods,  of  astonishing  growth,  which  cast 
alternate  showers  of  down  and  sticky  gum  upon  the  gar- 
ments of  those  who  walk  in  their  shade.  I  grieved  over 
the  loss  of  the  noble  old  trees.  Perhaps  it  was  inevitable 
that  they  should  fall,  but  it  was  none  the  less  melancholy. 

Sacramento  is  a  cheerful,  busy  town  of  about  15,000 
inhabitants,  with  a  State-house  which  would  be  imposing  if 
it  were  all  one  color,  substantial  churches  and  school-houses, 
a  few  flourishing  manufactories,  and  drinking  saloons  innu- 


112  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

merable.  It  boasts  the  best  daily  paper  in  the  State  {The 
Union),  the  biggest  hotel,  and  (being  the  capital)  the  worst 
class  of  politicians.  It  is  a  city  whose  future  is  sure, 
but  whose  character  must  necessarily  be  provincial.  Its 
difference  from  San  Francisco,  in  this  respect,  is  already 
striking. 

Hearing  the  sonnd  of  solemn  singing  in  the  street,  on 
Sunday  morning,  I  went  upon  the  balcony.  There  was 
a  crowd  below,  collected  around  a  ^oung  man  with  a  pale 
face  and  short-cut  blonde  hair,  who  was  singing  a  Method- 
ist hymn,  in  a  clear,  penetrating  voice.  After  he  had 
finished,  he  commenced  an  exhortation  which  lasted  about 
twenty  minutes,  the  crowd  listening  with  respectful  atten- 
tion. At  its  close,  a  seedy-looking  individual  went  around 
with  a  hat,  with  such  good  result,  that  some  twenty  or  thir- 
ty dollars  in  silver  were  poured  out  on  a  stone  at  the 
preacher's  feet.  By  this  time,  most  of  the  ladies  in  the 
hotel  were  collected  on  the  balcony.  Casting  his  eyes  up- 
ward, the  preacher  acknowledged  their  presence  in  a  series 
of  remarks  rather  courtly  than  clerical.  He  concluded  by 
saying  :  "  That  distinguished  traveller,  ^ay-ard  Taylor,  has 
also  stated  that,  wherever  he  went,  he  was  kindly  treated  by 
the  ladies!  When  he  visited  the  Esquimaux,  in  the  Arctic 
Regions,  the  ladies  received  him  with  great  hospitality ; 
and  even  among  the  Hottentots,  his  friends  were  still — the 
ladies!''''  Not  content  with  attributing  Ledyard's  senti- 
ment to  myself,  he  made  that  noble  traveller  guilty  of  a  vul- 
garism. Ledyard  said  "«>omaw,"  not  "lady.''  After  this, 
I  can  almost  credit  Miss  Martineau's  statement,  that  an 
American  clergyman  said,  in  one  of  his  sermons :  "  Who 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  IIS 

were  last  at  the  cross  ?  Ladies !  Who  were  earliest  at  the 
sepulchre  ?     Ladies !" 

The  State  Agricultural  Fair  (then  in  progress)  was  held 
in  a  Pavilion,  the  erection  of  which,  for  this  special  occa- 
sion,  was  the  boast  of  the  city.  It  was  a  hall  of  brick,  rest- 
ing on  a  basement — two  hundred,  by  one  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  in  dimensions,  and  fifty  in  height.  About  seven  weeks, 
only,  were  consumed  in  building  it.  The  display  of  pro- 
ductions— agricultural,  horticultural,  mineral,  mechanical, 
and  artistic — astonished  even  the  Californians  themselves. 
Few  of  them  had  been  awai-e  of  the  progress  which  their 
State  had  made  in  the  arts — nor,  though  familiar  with  the 
marvellous  energies  of  her  soil,  could  they  guess  how  rich 
and  vai'ied  were  its  productions,  until  thus  brought  toge- 
ther. Few  of  the  annual  fairs  of  our  Atlantic  States  could 
have  surpassed  it  in  completeness,  to  say  nothing  of  the 
vegetable  wonders  which  can  be  seen  nowhere  else  in  the 
world. 

Entering  the  basement,  you  saw  before  you  a  collection 
of  carriages,  fire-engines,  saddlery,  harness,  furniture,  and 
agricultural  implements — all  of  California  manufacture : 
blocks  of  granite  and  freestone,  blue,  white,  and  amber 
Suisun  marble  :  statuary,  cured  hams,  pickles,  sauces,  pre- 
serves, canned  fruits,  dried  fruits,  honey,  oil,  olives,  soap, 
butter,  cheese,  vinegar :  twenty  or  thirty  dififerent  varieties 
of  wine  :  rows  of  bee-hives  near  the  windows,  which  wei'e 
opened,  that  the  unembarrassed  insects  might  go  on  with 
their  work  :  rope,  tanned  hides,  boots,  clothing  ;  in  short, 
all  the  necessaries  of  life,  and  not  a  few  of  the  luxuries. 
Coming  upon  a  pile  of  green  boulders — huge  geodes  of 


114  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

malachite,  you  suspect — you  find  them  to  be  water-melons' 
walking  down  a  glen,  between  rounded  masses  of  orange 
colored  rock,  you  see,  at  last,  that  they  are  only  pumpkins, 
weighing  two  hundred  and  sixty  poimds  apiece !  What  is 
this  silvery  globe,  the  size  of  your  head  ?  Bless  me,  an 
onion !  Are  those  turnips,  or  paving-stones  ?  White 
columns  of  celery,  rising  from  the  floor,  curl  their  crisp 
leaves  over  your  head  ;  those  green  wai*-clubs  are  cucum- 
bers ;  and  these  legs,  cut  off  at  the  groin  and  clad  in  orange 
tights,  are  simply  carrots ! 

Again,  I  say,  it  is  useless  to  attempt  a  description  of 
California  vegetables.  The  above  comparisons  suggest  no 
exaggeration  to  those  who  have  seen  the  objects — yet  my 
readers  this  side  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  will  not  believe 
it.  Growth  so  far  beyond  the  range  of  our  ordinary  expe- 
rience seems  as  great  a  miracle  as  any  which  have  been 
performed  by  the  toe-nails  of  saints.  I  have  been  informed 
even,  that  some  vegetables  change  their  nature,  after  being 
transplanted  here  for  a  few  years.  The  lima-bean  becomes 
perennial,  with  a  woody  stem ;  the  cabbage,  even  (though 
I  should  prefer  seeing  this),  is  asserted,  in  one  instance,  to 
have  changed  into  a  sort  of  shrub,  bearing  a  head  on  the 
end  of  every  branch  1  I  believe  no  analysis  of  the  various 
soils  of  California  has  yet  been  made.  It  would  be  curious 
to  ascertain  whether  this  vegetable  vigor  is  mostly  due  to 
a  fortunate  climate,  or  to  a  greater  proportion  of  nutriment 
in  the  earth  than  is  elsewhere  found. 

The  great  hall  was  devoted  principally  to  fruits,  and  pre- 
sented a  rare  banquet  of  color  and  perfume.  Green,  lemon- 
yellow,  gold,  orange,  scarlet,  pink,  crimson,  purple,  violet, 


XEW    PICTURES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  11£ 

blue,  and  their  mottled  combinations,  fairly  made  the  mouth 
water  from  the  delight  of  the  eye.  There  were  thousands 
of  specimens,  from  gardens  in  the  Sierra  Nevada  and  gar- 
dens on  the  sea-coast ;  in  Los  Angeles,  under  the  palm,  and 
in  Oregon  under  the  pine.  A  fountain,  at  one  end  of  the 
hall,  played  upon  two  enormous  cubes  of  crystal  ice — one 
from  Nevada  Lake  and  one  from  Sitka.  The  latter  was  so 
airily  clear,  that  it  would  have  been  invisible  but  for  the 
gleam  of  light  on  the  edges.  As  an  illustration  of  progress 
in  Califoi'nia,  the  contents  of  the  pavilion  were  doubly  re- 
markable. Who  so  mad,  ten  years  ago,  as  to  have  pre- 
dicted this  result?  Who,  now,  can  appreciate,  without 
seeing  it  ? 

I  must  not  leave  Sacramento  without  speaking  of  the 
garden  and  nursery  of  Mr.  A.  P.  Smith,  a  visit  to  which 
was  the  crown  and  culminating  point  of  a  glorious  ride  over 
the  plain  around  the  city.  After  dragging  along  through 
deep  roads,  where  wagon-loads  of  straw  had  been  scattered, 
to  keep  down  the  dust,  we  approached  the  American  Fork, 
some  three  miles  above  Sacramento.  There  were  vaiious 
suburban  beer-gardens,  shaded  with  cottonwoods,  and  with 
long  arbors  of  grape-vines  to  attract  the  Teutonic  imbibers 
— all  of  them  pleasant  places,  but  tame  and  vulgar  in  com- 
parison to  what  we  were  to  see. 

An  avenue,  lined  with  locusts  and  arbor  vitce,  conducted 
us,  finally,  to  some  neat  wooden  cottages,  the  verandas  of 
which  were  overrun  with  the  scarlet-fruited  passion-flower. 
A  clean  gravel  road  inclosed  a  circle  of  tui"f,  in  the  centre 
whereof  grew  willow,  locust,  and  pomegranate  trees, beyond 
which  extended  a  wilderness  of  splendid  bloom.     Behind 


116  AT   HOME   AND    ABKOAD. 

the  liouse  rose  the  fringe  of  massive  timber  which  lines  the 
American  Fork.  A  series  of  stairs  and  balcony-terraces 
connected  one  cottage  with  another,  and  formed  an  easy 
access  to  the  very  roof-tree.  A  wild  grape-vine,  which  had 
so  covered  an  evergreen  oak  that  it  resembled  a  colossal 
fountain,  pouring  forth  volumes  of  falling  Bacchic  leaves, 
stretched  forth  arms  from  the  topmost  boughs,  took  hold 
of  the  balconies,  and  ran  riot  up  and  down  the  roof,  wav- 
ing its  arms  above  the  very  chimneys.  Behind  this  Tita- 
nic bower  were  thickets  of  bay  and  willow,  with  a  glimpse 
of  the  orange-colored  river,  framed  on  the  opposite  side, 
by  as  grand  and  savage  a  setting.  From  the  top  of  the 
roof,  the  eye  overlooked  the  whole  glorious  garden,  the 
spires  of  the  city,  the  yellow  plain,  vanishing  in  purple  haze, 
and  the  range  of  violet  mountains  in  the  east. 

I  was  curious  to  see  what  had  been  done  toward  intro- 
ducing the  trees  and  plants  of  other  parts  of  the  world  into 
a  climate  so  favorable  to  all,  from  Egypt  to  Norway.  I 
found  even  more  than  I  had  anticipated.  There,  side  by 
side,  in  the  open  air,  grew  the  natives  of  Mexico,  Australia, 
the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  China,  the  Himalayas,  Syria,  Italy, 
and  Spain.  The  plants  were  mostly  very  young,  as  suffi- 
cient time  had  not  elapsed  since  the  seeds  were  procured, 
to  enable  any  of  them  to  reach  a  full  development ;  but  the 
character  of  their  growth  was  all  that  could  be  desired.  To 
my  great  delight,  I  found  not  only  the  Indian  deodar  and 
the  funeral  cypress  of  China,  but  the  cedar  of  Lebanon, 
and  the  columnar  cypress  of  Italy,  and  the  Orient.  The 
exquisite  Cape  ericas  and  azaleas  floui-ished  as  in  their  native 
air ;    the  thready  tamarack  of  Africa,  the  Indian-rubber 


NEW   PICTURES    FEOM    CALIFOBNIA.  117 

tree,  the  Australian  eucalyptus^  and  the  Japanese  camelia 
were  as  lush  and  luxuriant  as  if  rejoicing  in  theirnewhome. 
In  the  conservatories,  no  artificial  heat  is  required,  except 
for  the  orchids  and  other  tender  tropical  plants.  What  a 
vegetable  splendor  will  California  present  in  fifty  years  from 
now !  I  should  almost  be  content  to  live  so  long,  that  my 
eyes  might  behold  it. 

Not  less  remarkable  was  the  superior  luxuriance  which 
the  growths  of  the  Atlantic  States  exhibit,  when  transferred 
to  the  Pacific  Side.  The  locust,  especially,  doubles  the 
size  of  its  leaf,  and  its  pinnated  tufts  almost  rival  those  of 
the  sago  palm.  The  pawlonia  spreads  a  tremendous  shield  . 
and  even  the  evergreens,  especially  the  thuya.,  manifest  a 
new  vitality.  The  rose  is  frequently  so  large  as  to  suggest 
the  idea  of  a  peony,  yet  loses  nothing  of  its  fragrance  and 
beauty.  I  never  beheld  a  more  exquisite  bouquet  of  half- 
blown  roses,  than  Mr.  Smith's  gardener  cut  for  my  com- 
panion. Great  beds  of  violets,  heliotrope,  and  mignonette, 
fairly  ran  wild,  like  weeds,  and  the  lemon  verbena  became 
a  bush,  higher  than  our  heads.  The  breezes  fiiinted  with 
excess  of  perfume  as  they  came  over  this  garden — the  lan- 
guid, voluptuous  atmosphere  of  which  can  only  be  com- 
pared to  that  of  the  nutmeg  orchards  of  Ceylon. 

Mr.  Smith  related  to  me  a  curious  fact  with  regard  to  the 
habits  of  fruit-trees  in  California.  lie  uses  no  irrigation — 
in  fact,  finds  no  necessity  for  it.  Seeing  that  the  young 
trees  throve  without  interruption,  during  the  long  summer 
drouth,  he  was  led  to  examine  them  closely,  and  discovered 
that  evei'y  plant  makes  it  the  first  business  to  send  down  a 
straight,  slender  tap-root,  until  it  reaches  the  stratum  of 


118  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

moisture.  Having  once  accomplished  this,  it  feels  secure, 
and  devotes  its  energies  to  the  visible  portion  of  its  body. 
I  saw  a  pear  tree,  three  feet  high,  which  in  one  summer  had 
thrust  a  tap-root  six  feet  straight  down  into  the  earth,  and 
no  thicker  than  a  knitting-needle!  All  plants  appear  to 
change  in  this  respect. 

And  then  comes  the  question — if  plants  change,  where- 
fore not  men  ?  And  if  so,  how  ?  Or  is  the  change  only 
in  the  hidden  roots  of  our  character,  not  in  the  boughs  and 
blossoms  which  we  show  to  the  world  ? 

Travelling  in  California  is  very  like  what  it  was  in  the 
Atlantic  States  thirty  years  ago.  The  stage-coach,  obsolete 
among  us,  is  there  a  prominent  institution.  The  various 
lines  are  very  well  managed,  on  the  whole — the  proportion 
of  speed  and  safety  being  fully  up  to  the  old  average. 
There  are,  however,  three  disadvantages — jolts,  dust,  and 
Chinamen.  The  amount  of  freighting  done  on  all  the  prin- 
cipal roads  speedily  wears  the  best  highways  into  holes  and 
ruts ;  the  hoofs  of  four  horses,  playing  in  a  bed  of  pow- 
dered eai'th,  raise  volcanic  puffs  of  brown  dust ;  and  unless 
you  are  on  a  hard  plain,  where  there  is  a  pick  of  tracks, 
and  the  wind  abeam,  you  have  your  mouth  jerked  open  as 
fast  as  you  can  shut  it,  and  choked  every  time  it  is  opened. 
Then  the  proximity  of  a  greasy,  filthy  Chinaman,  with  his 
yellow,  libidinous  face  and  sickening  smell  of  stale  opium, 
is  in  itself  sufficient  to  poison  all  the  pleasure  of  the  jour- 
ney. I  have  often  felt  an  involuntary  repulsion  when  seated 
near  a  negro  in  some  pubUc  conveyance,  at  home ;  but  \ 
confess  I  would  rather  be  wedged  in  between  two  of  the 
blackest  Africans  than  be  touched  by  one  Chinaman.    In 


NEW   PICTUKES    FROM    CAIIFOKNIA,  IIG 

both  cases,  the  instinct  is  natural  and  unconquerable ;  but 
on  the  score  of  humanity,  the  former  race  stands  immea- 
surably above  the  latter. 

I  must  plead  guilty  to  a  prejudice  against  the  Chinese. 
If  it  were  possible  for  human  nature  to  be  so  thoroughly 
perverted  that  even  the  simplest,  most  general  ideas  of 
right  and  Avrong  should  be  transmitted  from  generation  to 
generation  in  distorted  forms,  this  phenomenon  would  be 
found  among  them.  Of  all  people  with  whom  I  have 
become  acquainted,  they  stand  on  the  lowest  moral  plat- 
form— rather,  indeed,  on  none  at  all :  and  when  one  once 
knows  with  Avhat  abominations  their  lives  are  filled,  he 
sees,  thenceforward,  pollution  in  their  presence.  Those 
who  have  been  in  China  will  understand  me — for  many  of 
the  reasons  of  my  dislike  cannot  be  told.  The  Chinaman 
in  California,  it  is  true,  is  hardly  treated ;  but  it  were 
better  if  he  could  have  been  wholly  excluded.  He  has  the 
one  virtue  of  industry,  and  his  cheap  habits  of  life  enable 
him  to  get  a  profit  out  of  bars  deserted  by  the  white 
miners,  and  soil  scorned  by  the  white  farmers.  In  this 
way,  he  adds  something  to  the  production  of  the  State  :  he 
also  washes,  cooks,  and  serves  in  various  menial  capacities 
— ^but  I  doubt  "w^hether  these  services  atone  for  the  moral 
contamination  of  his  presence.  I  have  never  found  it  more 
diflUcult  to  exercise  Christian  charity,  than  toward  these 
fungi  of  a  rotten  civilization. 

On  leaving  for  Marysville,  I  avoided  the  three  discom- 
forts of  stage  travel,  by  secui'ing  a  seat  behind  the  driver. 
Rolling  out  through  the  watered  streets  of  Sacramento, 
between  shivering  rows  of  dusty  cottonwoods,  which  con 


120  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

tinually  drop  their  gum  and  tow  on  the  promenaders,  we 
speedily  reached  the  American  Fork.  The  color  of  these 
rivers,  since  the  discovery  of  gold,  has  changed  from  a 
pure  crystalline  beryl  to  an  opaque  reddish-yellow,  similar 
to  that  of  pickled  salmon.  They  are  not  only  hojjelessly 
polluted,  but  the  earth  brought  continually  down  from 
above  fills  up  the  channel,  changes  its  course,  increases 
inundations,  and  year  after  year,  so  clogs  the  bed  of  the 
Sacramento  that  steamboat  navigation — which  is  now 
feasible  for  one  hundred  and  eighty  miles  above  the  city — 
threatens  to  be  cut  off  altogether. 

A  balmy  wind  blew  from  the  north,  carrying  the  dust 
away  from  us,  and  the  journey,  in  my  lofty  seat,  with  a 
free  outlook  over  the  vast  landscape,  was  very  enjoyable. 
At  the  Six-Mile  House,  our  horses  were  watered,  and  the 
passengers  brandied  :  at  the  Twelve-Mile  House,  the  horses 
were  changed,  and  the  passengers  whiskied.  Our  speed 
perceptibly  increased  after  each  halt,  and  ere  long,  the  far 
line  of  oaks  marking  the  course  of  the  Feather  River 
became  visible.  First,  a  pale-blue  braid,  tacked  along  the 
hem  of  the  landscape,  it  gradually  became  an  irregular 
flounce,  cut  into  embayed  scallops ;  and,  finally,  the  very 
pattern  on  the  golden  ground  of  Nature's  dress.  The  eye 
rested  with  double  delight  on  those  superb  trees,  after  the 
monotony  of  the  sun-scorched  plain.  The  river  flows  in  a 
more  contracted  bed  than  the  American  Fork,  whence  it  is 
navigable,  although  the  body  of  water  is  not  greater. 

A  quiet,  sleei)y  little  place  is  the  town  of  Nicolaus,  on 
Feather  river,  twenty-five  miles  from  Sacramento.  Huge 
oaks,  stretching  their  arms  over  the  single  broad  street, 


NEW   PICTUKES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  121 

give  it  an  air  of  rural  repose.  There  is  also  a  very  com- 
fortable inn,  where  we  halted  a  few  minutes,  and  tlie 
passengers  beered  or  brandied.  Owing  to  this  fact,  no 
doubt,  the  new  horses  were  exceedingly  spirited,  and  the 
four  miles  to  Bear  Creek  were  accomplished  in  twenty 
minutes.  Over  the  bard,  level  road,  through  alternate 
belts  of  sunshine  and  shade,  galloped  the  four  fiery  animals 
until  we  reached  a  spot  which  was  to  have  been  called 
"Oro,"  and  would  have  been,  if  anybody  could  have 
been  induced  to  settle  there.  A  single  house,  on  a  knoll 
above  the  dry  bed  of  Bear  Creek,  is  all  that  is  to  be  seen. 
This  was  formerly  one  of  the  many  capitals  of  the  State. 
A  certain  State  Senator,  who  bought  a  ranche  here,  intro-< 
duced  a  bill  making  it  the  seat  of  government,  "  Why," 
remarked  another  member,  "  there  is  no  water  in  Bear 
Creek  :  how  will  steamboats  get  up  to  the  place  ?"  "  Do 
you  mean  to  insult  me  ?"  exclaimed  the  mover  of  the  bill, 
fiercely  brandishing  his  cane;  "I  assure  the  House  that 
The  Senator  can  reach  the  spot  ^very  day  in  the  year,  and 
I  will  chastise  you  if  you  deny  my  word !"  "  The  Senator" 
was  a  large  steamboat,  which  plied  between  San  Francisco 
and  Sacramento.  Thereupon  the  other  apologized,  with- 
drew his  remark,  and  the  bill  passed.  The  ranche  was 
immediately  staked  into  lots,  and  the  possessor  realized 
some  forty  or  fifty  thousand  dollars  by  the  sale  thereof. 

Summer  came.  Bear  Creek  dried  up,  and  the  humbug 
was  seen  by  everybody.  "  What  did  you  mean  by  saying 
that  The  Senator  could  get  here  every  day  in  the  year  ?'' 
exclaimed  the  indignant  purchasers.  "  Why,"  coolly 
answered  the  ex-Senator,  "  it  is  true :   the   Senator   who 

6 


122  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

contradicted  me  ca7i  get  here  at  any  time — what  is  to 
hinder  him  ?  I  never  said  a  steamboat  could  do  it !'' 
Having  thus  reconciled  the  swindle  to  his  conscience,  the 
gentleman  prudently  retired  from  California.  This  was 
told  me  by  two  fellow-passengers,  while  passing  the  spot. 

As  it  drew  toward  noon,  the  breeze  fell,  and  the  sun 
beat  fiercely  ujDon  our  heads.  The  temperature  was  at 
least  90'='  in  the  shade — which,  for  the  19th  of  September, 
was  a  fair  degree  of  heat ;  though,  as  the  driver  said : 
"  This  here  ain't  a  circumstance  to  the  hot  days  in  June." 
"  How  hot  was  it  then  ?"  I  asked.  "  Why,''  said  he,  "  120» 
in  the  shade."  "  Impossible !"  "  Well,  it  was,  and  more'n 
that.  Lord  !  how  the  horses  used  to  drop  dead  along  this 
road  !  The  leaves  jist  curled  up  in  the  heat,  and  the  trees 
looked  as  they  was  ready  to  take  fire.  The  wind  blowed 
from  the  south,  and  you'd  ha'  thought  a  piece  of  hot  sheet 
iron  was  held  before  your  face.  Why,  the  crows  couldn't 
fly,  but  jist  sot  on  the  branches ;  and  every  now  an  then 
one  would  tumble  off,  dead  as  a  hammer."  "  That's  so !" 
said  one  of  the  passengers ;  "  it  w^as  the  awfuUest  heat  I 
ever  see.  The  ground  burnt  through  your  boots,  and  the 
sky  was  sort  o'  hazy,  like  the  world  was  nigh  bustin'  into 
a  blaze."  These  accounts  were  after^vnrds  corroborated 
by  others.  The  temperature  must  have  equalled  that  of 
the  Sahara — yet  the  effect  upon  human  life  seems  not  to 
have  been  so  fatal  as  some  of  our  "  heated  terms"  on  the 
Atlantic  Coast. 

The  Sacramento  Buttes — a  curious  isolated  group  of  hills, 
which  form  a  landmark  for  near  a  hundred  miles  up  and 
down  the  valley — now  rose  blue  and  beautiful  befoie  us. 


NEW   PICTURES   FKOM   CALIFORNIA.  123 

their  craggy  sides  tinted  with  rose-color  in  the  sunshine. 
From  the  topmost  peak,  which  is  about  twelve  hundred 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  valley,  there  is  a  wonderful 
panorama,  in  clear  weather.  The  view  extends  from 
Monte  Diablo  in  the  south  to  the  solitary  Alpine  cone  of 
Shasta  in  the  north,  a  distance  of  more  than  two  hundred 
miles.  Lovely  little  dells  lie  between  the  bases  of  the 
group ;  and  the  citizens  of  Marysville,  only  eight  miles 
distant,  are  beginning  to  perceive  the  prudence  of  securing 
residences  in  a  spot  which  combines  so  many  natural 
advantages.  Here,  again,  there  is  the  basis  for  another 
Arcadian  day-dream. 

As  we  approached  the  Yuba  River,  the  country  became 
rolling,  the  road  a  fathomless  bed  of  dust — yet  this  was 
disregarded,  in  the  contemplation  of  the  superb  trees, 
studded  with  growths  of  raisletoe,  and  hung  with  a  gor- 
geous drapery  of  wild  grape-vines.  Where  the  land  had 
been  cleared,  there  were  fields  of  Indian  corn  which  sur- 
passed anything  I  had  ever  seen.  The  average  height  of 
the  stalks  was  not  less  than  fifteen  feet,  and  the  size  and 
number  of  the  ears  was  in  proportion.  The  brick  blocks  of 
Marysville  now  appeared  in  front,  on  the  west  bank  of  the 
Yuba,  which  we  crossed  by  a  lofty  and  substantial  bridge. 

Marysville  is  the  best-built  town  of  its  size  in  California. 
At  the  head  of  navigation  on  Feather  River,  it  occupies 
the  same  situation  with  regard  to  the  northern  mines  that 
Stockton  does  to  the  southern,  while  the  opening  of  Honey 
Lake  and  Pitt  River  valleys  insure  for  it  a  more  prosperous 
future.  Its  founder,  Mr.  Fall,  who  is  still  the  largest  pro- 
prietor, is  one  of  the  few  men  who  made  a  lucky  hit  at  the 


124  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

start,  and  kept  it.  He  was  absent  on  a  trip  to  Carson 
Valley  at  the  time  of  my  visit,  and  I  regretted  that  I  did 
not  see  his  garden,  which  is  one  of  the  most  beautiful  in  the 
State.  Marysville  has  already  a  population  of  eight  thou- 
sand. It  is  laid  out  in  regular  squai'es,  the  houses  being 
mostly  of  brick,  flat-roofed,  and  two  stories  high.  The 
prevailing  red  tint  is  not  agreeable  to  the  eye  ;  but  this 
Avill  probably  disappear  in  the  course  of  time.  The  situa- 
tion of  the  town  is  very  beautiful,  the  Yuba,  in  spite  of  its 
orange  tint,  being  a  lovely  stream,  not  yet  denuded  of  its 
timber,  through  the  openings  in  which  you  see  the  far 
peaks  of  the  Sierra  Nevada. 

My  performances  were  held  in  the  theatre,  which  was 
then  vacant.  Considering  the  fact  that  five  or  six  hundred 
of  the  principal  citizens  were  then  in  Sacramento,  attend- 
ing the  State  Fair,  the  attendance  was  very  good,  and  I 
was  gratified  at  seeing,  in  the  gallery,  quite  a  number  of 
flannel-shirted  miners.  One  circumstance  puzzled  me  at 
first.  After  I  had  been  discoursing  for  half  an  hour, 
several  gentlemen  got  u\)  and  left,.  Presently,  another 
party  rose  and  retired  in  a  body.  Well,  thought  I,  they 
are  certainly  bored :  it  is  not  the  entertainment  they 
expected  :  they  have  been  accustomed  to  negro  minstrels, 
and  anything  of  a  serious  nature  is  tiresome  to  them. 
But,  to  my  sm-prise,  they  all  returned  in  five  minutes 
afterwards,  and  sat  quietly  until  the  close.  On  stating  this 
to  a  friend,  he  laughed.  "  Why,"  said  he,  "  didn't  you 
guess  it  ?  They  only  went  out  for  a  drink  /''  I  after- 
ward got  accustomed  to  this  practice,  as  it  happened 
almost  every  night.     The  innocence   with   which   it   was 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFOENIA.  126 

done  amused  me,  although  the  interruption  was  annoying, 
I  had  serioius  thoughts  of  engaging  waiters,  in  felt  slippers, 
to  attend,  take  orders,  and  bring  to  each  thirsty  auditor 
the  drink  he  desired.  In  other  respects,  the  Marysville 
audience  was  very  agreeable — decidedly  more  warm  and 
genial  than  in  San  Francisco,  with  an  equally  intelligent 
attention. 


6. — ^The  Northern  Mines. 

• 

I  HAD  made  an  engagement  with  a  literary  society  in  the 
town  of  Nevada,  high  up  in  the  mountains,  for  the  next 
evening ;  and  it  was  therefore  necessary  to  take  a  stage 
Avhich  left  Marysville  at  three  in  the  morning.  The  driver 
cruelly  picked  us  up  first  of  all,  and  then  went  around  the 
town,  in  the  cold  morning  starlight,  calling  for  the  other 
passengers.  Two  or  three  miners  and  traders  and  a  Chi- 
nese woman  entered — ^the  latter  surrounded  with  a  hideous, 
jabbering  crowd  of  countrymen,  who  yelled  after  her 
adieux  which  sounded  more  like  curses.  Then  we  drove 
off  upon  the  dark  plain,  silent  and  uncomnfttnicative  for  the 
first  two  hours.  The  dawn  came  as  we  were  passing 
through  the  oak  openings  at  the  base  of  the  foot-hills,  and 
revealed  to  us  the  bearded  faces  and  stalwart  forms  oppo- 
site, and  the  squat  yellow  figure  on  the  middle  seat,  with 
her  lantern,  tea-kettle,  paper-box,  and  various  other  arti- 
cles, tied  separately  in  dirty  handkerchiefs.  She  looked 
around  with  a  grin,  cackled  a  few  unknown  words,  and 
then  proceeded  to  roll  a   cigar,  strike   fire,  and   smoke. 


]26  AT  HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

Noticing  my  wife,  she  made  a  second  cigar,  and  offered  it 
to  lier.  As  this  was  declined,  she  took  a  small  black  cake 
in  her  harpy  talons,  and  made  a  second  attempt  to  be 
friendly.  To  refuse,  without  an  open  manifestation  of  dis- 
gust, was  all  that  was  possible. 

By  sunrise,  we  were  toiling  up  and  down  a  rough,  side- 
ling road,  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Yuba.  I  looked  with 
great  interest  for  the  first  signs  of  gold- washing,  and  they 
were  soon  visible  in  the  bare,  yellow,  devastated  river-bed 
below  us.  Soon  after  entering  the  hills  we  reached  Long 
Bar,  a  mining-camp  which  extends  for  some  distance  alofig 
the  river.  Wooden  flumes,  raised  on  tall  tressels,  brought 
water  from  some  reservoir  above  to  the  diggings,  where  it 
fell  into  the  sluices  in  which  the  earth  is  washed.  The 
absence  of  any  appearance  of  permanent  settlement — the 
rough  board  shanties  in  which  the  miners  live — did  not  give 
evidence  of  a  great  yield  of  gold.  In  fact,  they  were 
washing  the  same  bars  over  for  jDerhaps  the  fifth  or  sixth 
time.  Every  year  some  new  deposit  is  struck,  besides 
what  is  continually  brought  down  by  the  wintel"  floods ; 
but  the  chances  of  great  strikes  are  gradually  lessened. 
These  operatioiis  are  now  carried  on  by  small  companies 
of  miners:  individual  labor,  which  was  the  rule  in  1849, 
has  almost  entirely  ceased. 

The  miners  were  just  turning  out  of  their  bunks,  and  tlie 
doors  of  their  shanties  being  open,  enabled  us  to  see 
how  rude  and  simple  are  their  habits  of  life.  They  lived, 
two  or  three  in  a  hut,  doing  their  own  cooking  and  house- 
keeping. Some  were  washing  their  eyes,  and  combing 
their  matted  hair :  some  kindling  fires  in  little  stone  ovens : 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM    CALTFORJfIA,  127 

others  taking  a  morning  draught  at  the  "  Hotel  de  la 
France  /"  and  some  few  singing  songs  in  the  patois  of  the 
Canadian  voyageurs.  Rough,  ruddy  fellows  they  were, 
with  any  amount  of  animal  health  and  animal  appetites. 
Where  culture  is  engrafted  on  such  a  physical  stock,  the 
fruit  is — Men. 

Crossing  the  Yuba  by  a  species  of  floating  bridge,  we 
climbed  the  opposite  bank,  and  after  winding  among  the 
red,  dry-baked  hills  for  a  mile  or  two,  reached  Timbuctoo 
— a  place  which  has  recently  grown  into  notice  through  the 
hydraulic  mining  carried  on  there.  It  lies  in  a  narrow  glen, 
down  the  bottom  of  which  poured  a  stream  of  yellow  bat- 
ter, scarcely  to  be  recognized  as  water  after  it  has  been 
employed  in  mining.  The  village  consists  of  a  single  street, 
well-built,  though  wooden,  and  lively  and  cheerful  to  look 
upon.  We  only  stopped  to  leave  the  mails,  and  then  drove 
on,  gradually  ascending,  to  the  Empire  Ranche,  two  miles 
further,  where  breakfast  awaited  us.  Fine  oak-trees,  a 
large  barn  and  stabling,  a  peach-orchard,  vineyai-d,  and 
melon  patch,  were  the  first  signs  of  permanent  settlement 
we  had  seen  since  entering  the  hills.  The  breakfast  was 
abundant  and  good,  and  there  was  a  marked  increase  of 
social  feeling  among  the  passengers,  afterwards. 

Beyond  this,  the  hills,  which  had  been  terribly  denuded 
of  timber,  retained  their  original  forests.  The  road  crossed 
several  spurs,  and  then  entered  a  long,  shallow  canon,  up 
which  we  toiled  in  heat  and  dust.  Blue  mountain-ranges 
gleamed  afar,  through  the  gaps  in  the  trees ;  the  clayey 
water  rushed  overhead  through  the  flumes,  or  fell  in  turbid 
cascades  down  the  side  of  the  hill,  and  huge  freight  teams, 


128  AT    H03IE   AND   ABKOAD. 

drawn  by  long  strings  of  mules,  occasionally  blocked  our 
way.  It  was  a  singular  mixture  of  savage  and  civilized 
Nature.  From  the  top  of  the  canon  we  descended  three 
or  four  miles  into  Penn's  Valley,  a  rich,  circular  tract  of 
bottom  land,  studded  with  magnificent  trees,  and  already 
majDped  into  farms,  and  fenced.  Two  miles  beyond  this  is 
Rough-and-Ready,  a  mining  camp  in  a  very  rich  ravine. 
It  had  recently  been  destroyed  by  fire  :  half  of  it  consisted 
of  new,  uninhabited  shanties,  and  the  other  half  of  black- 
ened embers. 

Another  hour,  over  a  rolling,  well-timbered  region,  two 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  and  crossing  the  brow  of  the  hill, 
we  saw  a  large  town  below  us.  Blocks  of  brick  buildings, 
church  spires,  suburban  cottages  and  gardens,  gave  it  quite 
an  imposing  air — but  war  and  tempest  seemed  to  have 
passed  over  the  surrounding  landscape.  The  hills  were 
stripped  of  wood,  except  here  and  there  a  single  pine,  which 
stood  like  a  monumental  obelisk  amid  the  stump  head-stones 
of  its  departed  brethren :  the  bed  of  the  valley  was  torn 
into  great  holes  and  furrows  ;  and  wherever  the  eye  turned, 
it  met  with  glaring  piles  of  red  earth,  like  redoubts  thrown 
up  in  haste  and  then  deserted.  This  was  Grass  Valley, 
famous  in  the  annals  of  mining :  and  such  are  the  ravages 
which  the  search  for  gold  works  on  the  fair  face  of  Nature. 

Descending  into  the  town,  we  found  macadamized  and 
watered  streets,  and  plank  sidewalks,  respectable  hotels,  a 
theatre,  express  offices,  and  all  other  signs  of  a  high  civili- 
zation. Here  the  young  woman  called  John  (every  Chi- 
naman, male  or  female,  is  called  "John"  in  California) 
left  us.    Mails  Mere  delivered,  and  we  bowled  along  over 


NEW    PICTUKES    FROM    CALIFORNIA,  129 

a  broad  turnpike  to  Nevada,  four  miles  farther.  The 
approach  to  the  town,  along  the  steep  bank  of  a  ravine,  is 
very  striking.  The  houses  rise  along  the  opposite  bank,  on 
both  sides  of  a  lateral  ravine,  sending  out  irregular  arms 
up  the  hills,  to  the  foot  of  a  conical  peak,  called  the  Sugar 
Loaf,  which  overlooks  it.  But  for  the  red  l^rick,  I  should 
compare  it  to  some  Syrian  city.  Around  it  there  is  a  bai*- 
ren,  desolated  spacCj  full  of  yawning  gaps,  and  piles  of 
naked  earth,  with  here  and  there  a  young  garden  inter- 
posed ;  and  over  all — like  a  raised  rim  to  the  basin  in  which 
it  lies — a  forest  of  pines.  The  place  is  a  little  larger  than 
Grass  Valley,  having  about  four  thousand  inhabitants. 

We  found  comfortable  quarters  in  Mr.  Lancaster's  fire- 
proof tavern.  The  afternoon  was  devoted  principally  to 
repose,  as  my  day's  work  had  to  be  done  in  the  evening. 
An  audience  of  more  than  three  hundred  assembled  in  the 
theatre,  which,  as  the  tickets  cost  a  dollar,  was  equivalent 
to  double  the  number  at  home.  With  the  exception  of  San 
Francisco,  the  attendance  was  the  best  I  found  in  Califor- 
nia. In  character,  the  people  resembled  the  communities 
of  the  Western  States — genial,  impulsive,  quick,  anticij^ative 
even.  Professional  talkers  will  understand  how  pleasant  is 
an  audience  of  this  character. 

Having  expressed  a  great  desire  to  get  a  sight  of  the 
central  chain  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  Mr.  Rolfe  proposed  mi 
excursion  along  the  main  ridge,  which  runs  parallel  with 
the  South  Fork  of  the  Yuba,  up  to  the  Truckee  Pass.  We 
started  early  the  following  afternoon,  designing  to  reach  a 
point  some  eight  or  ten  miles  distant,  whence  the  highest 
peaks  of  the  northern  Sierra  could  be  seen.    Behind  Nevada, 

6* 


130  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

an  admirable  road,  cut  along  the  side  of  the  hill,  leads  off 
in  a  north-eastern  direction  for  two  miles,  gradually  mount- 
ing to  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  The  unbroken,  primitive 
forest  then  received  us.  Pillars  two  hundred  feet  high  and 
six  feet  in  diameter,  straight  as  a  lance,  and  tapering  as 
gracefully"  as  the  shaft  of  the  areca  palm,  rose  on  all  sides : 
far  above  mingled  the  tufted  boughs,  admitting  only  chance 
beams  of  sunshine,  which  struck  in  slanting  lines  of  gold 
through  the  fragrant,  shadowy  air.  Th.e  road  was  a  rough, 
rutty,  fathomless  bed  of  dust,  but  elsewhere  the  dry  earth 
was  hidden  under  a  carpet  of  yellow  ferns.  "Where  the 
ridge  fell  off  on  either  side,  the  summits  of  the  trees  below 
formed  an  imjDervious  canopy  which  shut  out  the  distant 
view.  We  drove  for  several  miles  through  the  aisles  of 
this  grand  natural  cathedral,  before  which  the  pillared  hall 
of  Karnak  and  the  aspiring  arches  of  the  minster  of  Cologne 
sink  into  nothingness.  No  Doric  column  could  surpass  in 
beauty  of  proportion  those  stupendous  shafts.  They  are 
the  demigods  of  the  vegetable  world. 

Here  and  there  we  saw  a  small  clearing,  or  a  saw-mill — 
the  blasphemous  dragon  which  lays  waste  these  sacred  soli- 
tudes— or  a  tavern,  patronized  by  the  teamsters  who  tra- 
verse this  road  on  their  way  to  the  lapper  diggings,  near 
the  source  of  the  Yuba.  Still  further  on,  we  were  surprised 
by  a  fierce  roaring  sound,  and  the  sight  of  scarlet  gleams 
of  fire,  flashing  out  of  the  shades.  The  giant  trunks  stood 
scornfully  in  the  midst  of  it,  secure  in  their  bulk,  but  the 
underwood  and  the  dead  boughs  which  had  fiillen  snaj)ped 
and  crackled,  as  the  flames  leaped  upon  them,  Wc  drove 
through  the  midst  of  it,  and,  on  a  ferny  knoll  beyond,  saw 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  131 

whence  it  originated.  A  company  of  Diggei*  Indians,  half- 
naked,  lay  upon  the  ground.  They  had  been  burning  a 
dead  body,  and,  according  to  their  custom,  had  plastered 
their  hair  and  cheeks  with  a  mixture  of  pitch  and  the  fat 
rendered  out  of  the  dear  departed,  as  a  token  of  sorrow. 
During  the  performance  of  this  ceremony,  their  bowlings 
and  lamentations  are  frightful.  Those  whom  we  saw  ha^d 
completed  their  task,  and  had  an  air  of  stupid  satisfaction, 
resulting  from  thcconsciousness  of  having  done  their  duty. 
The  dust  raised  by  our  wheels  was  so  fine,  penetrating, 
and  suffocating,  that  the  excursion  became  a  torture  rather 
than  a  pleasure.  We,  therefore,  relinquished  the  idea  of 
going  on  to  Gold  Hill — a  picturesque  mining-camp  on  a 
terrace  overhanging  the  river — and  halted  at  a  point  where 
the  ridge  turns  sharply  to  the  south,  allowing  a  Avide  out- 
look to  the  north  and  east.  The  view  was  vast  in  extent, 
grand  and  savage  in  character,  yet  monotonous  in  form, 
lacking  the  usual  abruptness  and  picturesqueness  of  moun- 
tain scenery.  Directly  below  us  yawned  the  valley  of  the 
South  Fork,  at  least  two  thousand  feet  deep.  Opposite, 
rose  a  ridge  similar  to  that  on  which  we  stood,  dividing  the 
South  and  Middle  Forks — its  summit  presenting  an  almost 
even  line,  covered  with  dark  forests.  Over  this  a  few 
higher  peaks  lifted  themselves,  in  the  distance ;  and  still 
further.  Pilot  Knob  and  the  other  summits  of  the  Sierra, 
beyond  Downieville.  Eastward  the  deep  gorge  vanished 
between  vapory  mountain-walls,  over  which  towered  the 
topmost  heights  between  us  and  the  Great  Basin  of  Utah. 
The  highest  peaks  were  about  ten  thousand  feet  above  the 
sea-level ;  yet,  greatly  to  our  disappointment,  no  snow  was 


132  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAB. 

to  be  seen.  The  unusual  heat  of  the  summer  had  denuded 
even  the  loftiest  summits,  and  they  stood  bare  and  broken, 
of  a  pale  violet  color,  like  the  dolomite  mountains  of  South- 
ern Tyrol. 

Returning  along  the  same  track,  we  emerged  from  the 
forest  just  at  sunset,  and  halted,  involuntarily,  at  the  won- 
derful beauty  of  the  scene  before  us.  The  deep,  trough- 
like glen  down  which  our  road  lay,  slept  in  shadow  :  at  its 
mouth  Nevada,  with  her  encircling  hills,  burned  in  a  flush 
of  imperial  purple  light ;  while  the  mountains  of  the  Coast 
Range,  seventy  miles  away,  were  painted  in  rose-color, 
transparent  against  the  sunset.  I  know  of  but  one  pencil 
capable  of  reproducing  this  magic  illumination.  In  Spain, 
and  Sicily,  and  Syria,  I  have  never  seen  a  lovelier  effect  of 
color.  For  a  full  half-hour  the  glow  lingered,  as  if  reluc- 
tant to  fade  away  and  leave  to  us  the  unlovely  reality  of 
shanties,  shabby  houses,  heaps  of  dirt,  and  riddled  and  per- 
forated hills. 

While  in  Sacramento,  I  had  received  an  invitation  to 
spend  an  evening  in  Timbuctoo,  and  on  my  way  to  Nevada, 
completed  the  arrangements  for  visiting  that  unknown  and 
mysterious  place.  It  involved  a  journey  of  twenty  miles 
over  the  road  I  had  already  trayelled,  and  a  return  to  Ne- 
vada on  the  following  day  ;  but  as  Thnbuctoo  is  said  to  be 
the  grandest  example  of  hydraulic  mining  in  California,  I 
did  not  grudge  the  extra  travel.  Early  on  Monday  morn- 
ning  we  took  saddle-horses,  my  companion  being  ambitious 
to  gain  experience  in  an  art  new  to  her.  We  had  a  pair  of 
spirited  animals — almost  too  much  so,  in  fact,  for  such  a 
Bultry,  stifling  day — and  got  over  the  four  miles  to  Grass 


NEW   PICTUEES   FKOM    CALIFORNIA.  133 

Valley  in  short  order.  Thence  to  Rough-and-Ready  and 
Penn's  Valley,  all  Avent  well ;  but  as  the  sun  mounted 
higher,  and  the  dust  rose,  and  the  unaccustomed  arm  wea- 
ried of  the  check-rein,  the  inspiration  of  the  ride  flagged, 
and  never  was  haven  more  welcome  than  the  Empire 
Ranche,  two  miles  from  Timbuctoo. 

In  the  afternoon,  Mr.  Carpenter,  to  whom  I  was  indebted 
for  the  opportunity  of  visiting  the  place,  accompanied  me 
to  view  the  mining.operations.  A  ridge  about  five  hundred 
feet  in  height  divides  the  glen  in  which  the  town  lies  from 
the  Yuba  River,  and  the  whole  of  this  ridge  from  the  sum- 
mit down  to  the  bed-rock,  contains  gold.  At  first  the  wash- 
ings were  confined  to  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  and  to 
Rose's  Bar,  on  the  Yuba.  After  the  richest  deposits  were 
exhausted,  short  drifts  were  carried  into  the  hills  at  their 
base,  and  it  was  finally  ascertained  that  if  any  plan  could 
be  devised  to  curtail  the  expense  of  labor,  the  entire  hill 
might  be  profitably  washed  down.  In  this  manner  origin- 
ated what  is  called  hydraulic  mining — a  form  of  working, 
which,  I  believe,  is  not  known  in  any  other  part  of  the 
world. 

The  undertakings  ibr  the  purpose  of  procuring  a  steady 
supply  of  water  through  the  dry  seasons,  commenced  as 
early  as  1850.  It  was  found  that  the  deposits  of  gold  were 
not  only  on  the  river-bars,  but  that  scarcely  a  valley,  or 
glen,  or  dip  among  the  hills,  throughout  the  whole  extent 
of  the  gold  region,  was  barren  of  the  precious  metal.  That 
these  might  be  worked,  the  rivers  were  tapped  high  up  in 
the  mountains,  and  ditches  carried  along  the  intervening 
ridges,  raised  on  gigantic  flumes  wherever  a  depression 


134  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

occurred,  from  distances  varying  from  fifteen  to  forty  miles. 
Here  was  immediately  a  new  field  for  enterprise.  Water 
companies  were  formed  for  the  construction  of  these  vast 
works,  and  the  ditches  led  so  as  to  supply  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  mining  localities.  The  water  is  furnished  at  so  much 
per  inch — generally  at  very  exorbitant  rates — and  is  there- 
fore a  surer  source  of  profit  than  raining  itself.  Nothing 
seemed  to  me  more  remai'kable,  in  travelling  through  the 
gold  region,  than  the  grand  scale  on  which  these  operations 
are  conducted. 

The  ditch  which  supplies  Timbuctoo  is  thirty-five  miles 
long,  and  was  constructed  at  a  cost  of  $600,000.  Yet,  on 
this  capital  it  yields  an  annual  dividend  of  at  least  forty  per 
cent.  Some  ditches  are  still  more  profitable  than  this,  and 
it  may  be  said  that  none  of  them  has  failed  to  pay  hand- 
somely, except  through  mismanagement.  One  of  the  com- 
panies at  Timbuctoo  uses  water  to  the  value  of  $100  every 
day.  Near  the  end  of  the  ditch  there  is  a  reservoii',  into 
which  the  stream  is  tui'ned  at  night,  in  order  to  create  a 
reserve  for  any  emergency. 

Following  a  line  of  fluming  along  the  top  of  the  ridge, 
we  presently  came  to  a  great  gulf,  or  gap,  eaten  out  of  the 
southern  side  of  the  hill.  A  wall  of  bare  earth,  more  than 
a  hundred  feet  high,  yawned  below  our  feet,  and  two 
streams  of  water,  pouring  over  the  edge,  thundered  upon 
the  loose  soil  below,  which  was  still  further  broken  up  by 
jets  from  hose  which  the  workmen  held.  After  the  water 
had  become  thoroughly  commingled  with  earth,  it  was 
again  gathered  into  a  stream  and  conducted  into  a  long 
sluice,  in   the  bottom    of   which   grooves   of  quicksilver 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  136 

caught  the  scattered  grains  of  gold.  Nothing  could  be 
more  simple  than  the  process.  The  water  of  itself  ate  chan- 
nels into  the  lofty  wall  of  earth,  and  then  pulverized  and 
dissolved  the  dirt  it  had  brought  down.  'Commencing  at 
the  base  of  the  hill,  the  soil  has  thus  been  gradually  eaten 
away  to  the  depth  of  two  hundred  yards,  down  to  the  bed- 
rock, leaving  a  face  exposed,  in  some  places  150  feet  in  per- 
pendicular height.  The  whole  of  the  immense  mass  of 
earth  which  has  been  displaced  has  passed  through  the 
sluice,  deposited  its  gold,  and  been  carried  down  by  the 
waste  water  to  clog  the  currents  of  the  Yuba,  the  Feather, 
and  the  Sacramento. 

On  the  northern  side,  a  similar  process  was  in  operation, 
and  the  two  excavations  had  approached  each  other  so 
nearly,  that  a  few  months  only  were  requisite  to  break  the 
back  of  the  hill.  Crossing  the  narrow  bridge  between,  I 
approached  the  end  of  the  ridge,  and  found  myself  on  the 
edge  of  a  third,  and  still  grander  work!  Thousands  on 
thousands  of  tons  had  been  removed,  leaving  an  immense 
semicircular  cavity,  with  a  face  nearly  150  feet  in  height. 
From  the  summit,  five  streams  fell  in  perpendicular  lines 
of  spray,  trampling  and  boiling  in  cauldrons  of  muddy  foam 
as  they  mingled  with  the  loose  dirt  at  the  bottom.  While 
I  gazed,  a  mass  of  earth,  weighing,  at  least,  five  tons,  de- 
tached itself  from  the  top,  between  the  channels  cut  by  two 
of  those  streams,  and  fell  with  a  thundering  crash,  whicli 
made  the  hill  tremble  to  its  base.  Another  and  another 
slide  succeeded,  while  the  pigmies  below,  as  if  rejoicing  in 
the  ruin,  sprang  upon  them  with  six-inch  jets  from  the  hose- 
serpents  which  coiled  around  the  bank,  and  reduced  the 


136  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

fragments  to  dust.  Beyond  this  scene  of  chaos,  the  water 
gathered  again,  and  through  the  straight  shiice — Hke  a  giant 
bleeding  to  death  from  a  single  vein — the  mountain  washed 
itself  away. 

It  seemed  a  work  of  the  Titans.     When  I  saw  what  the 

original  extent  of  the  hill  had  been how  certainly  the 

whole  ridge,  which  rose  so  defiant,  as  if 'secure  of  enduring 
until  the  end  of  the  world,  was  doomed  to  disappear — how 
the  very  aspect  of  Nature  would  be  in  time  transformed  by 
such  simple  agents  as  this  trough  of  water,  and  those  three 
flannel-shirted  creatures  with  their  hose — I  acknowledged 
that  there  might  be  a  grandeur  in  gold-mining  beyond  that 
of  the  building  of  the  Pyramids. 

Some  fascination  must  be  connected  with  this  laboi',  or 
men  would  not  trifle  so  recklessly  with  the  forces  they 
attack.  Scarcely  a  week  passed  without  some  report  of 
workmen  being  buried  under  the  falling  masses  of  earth. 
Though  continually  warned — though  familiar  with  the  dan- 
ger from  long  experience — they  become  so  absorbed  in  the 
work  of  undermining  the  slippery  bluflfs,  that  they  gradually 
approach  nearer  and  nearer;  the  roar  of  the  water  drowns 
the  threatening  hiss  of  the  relaxing  soil — down  comes  the 
avalanche,  and,  if  the  man's  foot  is  not  as  quick  as  his  eye, 
he  is  instantly  crushed  out  of  existence.  In  descending  to 
the  village,  I  followed  two  miners,  taking  a  path  which  led 
downward,  on  the  top  of  a  narrow  wall,  left  standing  be- 
tween the  two  excavations  on  the  southern  side.  In  some 
places,  the  top  was  not  more  than  six  feet  wide,  and  the 
appearance  of  the  loose,  gravelly  soil,  dropping  straight 
down  a  hundi'ed  feet  on  either  hand,  threatening  to  give 


NEW  PICTDRES   FROM   CALIFOK^^A.  137 

■way  beneath  my  weight,  was  not  calculated  to  inspire  con- 
fidence. Seven  days  afterward,  the  entire  mass  fell  (fortu- 
nately in  the  night),  with  a  crash  that  jarred  the  earth  for 
a  mile  around. 

In  Mr.  Carpenter's  office,  I  found  a  choice  collection  of 
standard  works — Ruskin,  Coleridge,  Emerson,  Goethe,  Mrs. 
Somerville,  and  others,  whom  one  would  not  expect  to  find 
in  the  midst  of  such  barren  material  toil.  I  also  made  the 
acquaintance  of  a  minei' — a  hired  laborer — who  had  sent 
all  the  way  to  Boston  for  a  copy  of  Tennyson's  "  Idyls," 
knew  "In  Memoriam"  by  heart,  and  was  an  enthusiastic 
admirer  of  Mrs.  Browning.  One  of  my  first  visitors,  on 
reaching  San  Francisco,  was  an  old  Oregon  farmer,  who 
called  to  know  whether  I  had  ever  seen  the  Brownings — 
what  was  their  personal  appearance — what  sort  of  a  man 
was  Tennyson,  also  Longfellow,  Whittier,  and  vai-ioas 
other  poets.     Verily,  no  true  poet  need  despair — 

"  His  words  are  driven 
Like  flower-seeds  by  the  far  winds  sown, 
Where'er,  beneath  the  sky  of  heaven, 
The  birds  of  Fame  have  flown" — 

and,  also,  where  such  birds  have  not  flown.  If  I  knew,  as 
Tennyson  does,  that  a  poem  of  mine  made  an  imprisoned 
sailor,  in  the  long  Arctic  night,  shed  tears,  I  would  smile 
upon  the  critic  who  demonstrated,  by  the  neatest  process 
of  logic,  that  there  was  no  veritable  afflatus  to  be  found 
in  me. 

The  next  day  we  returned  to  Nevada — my  companion, 
much  less  enthusiastic  than  before,  taking  the  stage,  while 


138  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

I  galloped  back  with  a  led  horse  attached  to  my  right  arm. 
The  day  was  overcast,  with  a  presentiment  of  ill  in  the 
atmosphere.  It  was  that  anxious,  oppressed,  congested 
feeling,  which  Nature  often  experiences  before  a  rain,  when 
life  looks  cheerless,  and  hope  dies  in  the  soul  of  man. 
Anywhere  else  I  should  have  laid  my  hand  on  The  Book, 
and  affirmed  that  rain  w^ould  come — and  even  here,  rain 
did  come.  I  did  not  believe  my  ears,  when  I  heard  the 
pattering  in  the  night — I  could  scarcely  believe  my  eyes, 
when  I  looked  abroad  in  the  morning,  and  saw  the  dust 
laid,  the  trees  washed  and  glittering,  and  the  sky  as  clear 
and  tranquil  a  blue  as — no  matter  whose  eye.  We  were 
to  go  to  North  San  Juan,  an  enterprising  little  place  on 
the  Middle  Yuba,  ten  miles  off;  and,  in  spite  of  bruised 
bones,  there  was  no  thought  of  fatigue.  With  the  help  of 
that  exquisite  air,  we  could  have  climbed  Chimborazo. 

This  time,  however,  it  was  a  light,  open  buggy  and  a 
capital  black  horse.  I  have  rarely  seen  better  or  more 
intelligent  horses  than  there  are  in  Califoi'nia.  Probably 
the  long  journey  across  the  Plains  sifted  the  stock,  the 
poorer  specimens  dropping  by  the  way,  as  many  humans 
do,  blood  and  character  holding  out  to  the  end.  13e  this 
as  it  may,  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  no  horse  there  to 
whom  I  would  not  willingly  have  done  a  personal  favor. 
Merrily  we  rattled  up  the  planked  street  of  Nevada,  around 
the  base  of  the  Sugar  Loaf,  past  the  mouths  of  mining 
drifts,  and  the  muddy  tails  of  sluices,  and  into  a  rolling 
upland  region,  about  half  stripped  of  its  timber,  where 
every  little  glen  or  liollow  was  turned  upside  down  by  the 
miners.     After  a  drive  of  three  or  four  miles,  the  blueness 


NEW  PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  139 

of  the  air  disclosed  a  gulf  in  front,  and  we  prepared  for  a 
descent  to  the  bed  of  the  South  Yuba. 

It  was  a  more  difficult  undertaking  than  we  were  aware 
of.  The  road  plunged  down  the  steep  at  a  pitch  fright- 
ful to  behold,  turning  and  winding  among  the  ledges  in 
such  a  manner  that  one  portion  of  it  often  overhung 
another.  Broad  folds  of  shade  were  flung  into  the  gulf 
from  the  summits  far  above,  but  the  opposite  side,  ascend- 
ing even  more  abruptly,  lay  with  its  pines  and  large-leaved 
oaks,  sparkling,  in  the  clearest  sunlight.  Our  horse  was 
equal  to  the  emergency.  Planting  himself  firmly  on  his 
fore-feet,  with  erect,  attentive  ears,  he  let  us  carefully,  step 
by  step,  down  the  perilous  slopes.  With  strong  harness, 
there  is  really  no  danger,  and  one  speedily  gets  accustomed 
to  such  experiences. 

The  northern  bank,  as  beautifully  diversified  with  pictur- 
esque knolls  and  glens  as  the  rapidity  of  the  descent  would 
allow,  confronted  us  with  an  unbroken  climb  of  a  mile  and 
a  half.  Luckily  we  met  no  down-coming  team  on  the  way, 
for  there  was  no  chance  of  passing.  At  the  summit,  where 
there  is  a  little  mining-camp  called  Montezuma,  we  again 
entered  on  that  rolling  platform,  which,  like  the  fjelds  of 
Norway,  forms  the  prominent  feature  of  this  part  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada — the  beds  of  the  rivers  lying  at  an  avei'age 
depth  of  two  thousand  feet  below  the  level  of  the  inter- 
vening regions.  Looking  eastward,  we  beheld  a  single 
peak  of  the  great  central  chain,  with  a  gleaming  snow-field 
on  its  northern  side.  Montezuma  has  a  tavern,  two  stores, 
and  a  cluster  of  primitive  habitations.  The  genus  "  loafer" 
is  also  found — no  country,  in  fact,  is  so  new  that  it  does 


140  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

not  flourish  there.  Far  and  wide  the  country  is  covered 
with  giant  pines,  and  not  a  day  passes  but  some  of  them, 
fall.  They  are  visibly  thinning,  and  in  a  few  years  more, 
this  district  will  be  scorched  and  desolate.  It  is  true 
young  trees  are  starting  up  everywhere,  but  it  will  be 
centuries  before  they  attain  the  majesty  of  the  present 
forests. 

Pursuing  our  winding  way  for  three  miles  more  through 
the  woods,  w^e  saw  at  last  the  dark-blue  walls  of  the 
Middle  Yuba  rise  before  us,  and  began  to  look  out  for  San 
Juan.  First  we  came  to  Sebastapol  (!),  then  to  some  other 
incipient  village,  and  finally  to  our  destination.  North  San 
Juan  is  a  small,  compact  place,  lying  in  a  shallow  dip 
among  the  hills.  Its  inhabitants  prosecute  both  drift  and 
hydraulic  mining,  with  equal  energy  and  success.  As  at 
Timbuctoo,  the  whole  mass  of  the  hill  between  the  town 
and  the  river  is  gold-bearing,  and  enormous  cavities  have 
been  washed  out  of  it.  The  water  descends  from  the  flumes 
in  tubes  of  galvanized  iron,  to  which  canvas  hose-pipes, 
six  inches  in  diameter,  are  attached,  and  the  force  of  the 
jets  which  play  against  the  walls  of  earth  is  really  terrific. 
The  dirt,  I  was  informed,  yields  but  a  moderate  profit  at 
present,  but  grows  richer  as  it  approaches  the  bed-rock. 
As  each  company  has  enough  material  to  last  for  years,  the 
ultimate  result  of  their  operations  is  sure  to  be  very  pro- 
fitable. In  the  course  of  time,  the  very  ground  on  which 
the  village  stands  will  be  washed  away.  We  passed  some 
pleasant  cottages  and  gardens  which  must  be  moved  in 
two  or  three  years.  The  only  rights  in  the  gold  region 
are  those  of  miners.     The  only   inviolable  proj)erty  is  a 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFOKNIA.  141 

"  claim."  Houses  must  fall,  fields  be  ravaged,  improve- 
ments of  all  sorts  swept  away,  if  the  miner  sees  fit — there 
is  no  help  for  it. 

The  next  morning,  we  drove  back  to  Nevada  betimes, 
in  order  to,  reach  Grass  Valley  before  evening.  Before 
taking  leave  of  the  pleasant  little  town,  where  we  had 
spent  three  delightful  days,  I  must  not  omit  to  mention 
•  our  descent  into  the  Nebraska  Mine,  on  the  northern  side 
of  Manzanita  Hill.  This  is  as  good  an  example  of  success- 
ful drift  mining  as  can  readily  be  found,  and  gave  me  a 
new  insight  into  the  character  of  the  gold  deposits.  All 
the  speculations  of  the  early  miners  were  wholly  at  fault, 
and  it  is  only  within  the  last  four  or  five  years  that  any- 
thing like  a  rational  system  has  been  introduced — that  is, 
so  far  as  so  uncertain  a  business  admits  of  a  system. 
Hydraulic  mining,  as  I  have  before  stated,  is  carried  on  in 
those  localities  where  gold  is  difiiised  through  the  soil ; 
but  drift  mining  seeks  the  "  leads'' — mostly  the  subterra- 
nean beds  of  pre-Adamite  rivers — where  it  is  confined 
within  narrow  channels,  offering  a  more  contracted  but 
far  richer  field. 

These  ancient  river-beds  are  a  singular  feature  of  the 
geology  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  They  are  found  at  a 
height  of  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  or  more,  often 
cutting  at  right  angles  through  the  present  axis  of  the 
hills,  jumping  over  valleys  and  re-appearing  in  the  heights 
opposite.  One  of  them,  called  the  "  Blue  Lead,"  cele- 
brated for  its  richness,  has  been  thus  traced  for  more  than 
a  hundred  miles.  The  breadth  of  the  channels  varies 
greatly,  but  they  are  always  very  distinctly  marked  by  the 


142  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

bluff  banks  of  earth,  on  each  side  of  the  sandy  bed. 
Their  foundation  is  the  primitive  granite — upon  which, 
and  in  the  holes  and  pockets  whereof,  the  gold  is  most 
abundant.  The  usual  way  of  mining  is,  to  sink  a  shaft  to 
the  bed-rock,  and  then  send  out  lateral  drifts  in  search  of 
the  buried  river.  The  Nebraska  Company  at  Nevada  has 
been  fortunate  enough  to  strike  a  channel  several  hundred 
feet  wide,  and  extending  for  some  distance  diagonally 
through  the  hill.  Until  this  lead  was  struck,  the  expenses 
were  very  great,  and  a  considerable  capital  was  sunk ;  but 
now  the  yield  averages  ten  thousand  dollars  per  week,  at 
least  three-fourths  of  which  is  clear  profit. 

One  of  the  proprietors,  who  accompanied  us,  was  kind 
enough  to  arrange  matters  so  that  we  should  get  a  most 
satisfactory  view  of  the  mine.  After  having  been  arrayed, 
in  the  oiRce,  in  enormous  India-rubber  boots,  corduroy 
jackets,  and  sou'-westers,  without  distinction  of  sex,  we 
repaired  to  the  engine-house,  where  the  sands  of  the  lost 
Pactolus  are  drawn  up  again  to  the  sunshine,  after  the 
lapse  of  perhaps  five  hundred  thousand  years.  Here,  my 
Eurydice  was  placed  in  a  little  box,  from  which  the  dirt 
had  just  been  emptied,  packed  in  the  smallest  coil  to  avoid 
the  danger  of  striking  the  roof  on  the  way  down,  and, 
at  the  ringing  of  a  bell,  was  whisked  from  my  eyes  and 
swallowed  up  in  the  darkness.  I  was  obliged  to  wait  until 
the  next  box  came  up,  when,  like  Orpheus,  I  followed 
her  to  the  shades.  A  swift  descent  of  six  hundred  feet 
brought  me  to  the  bed-rock,  where  I  found  those  who  had 
gone  before,  standing  in  a  passage  only  four  or  five  feet  high, 
candles  in  their  hands,  and  their  feet  in  a  pool  of  water. 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  143 

Square  shafts,  carefully  boxed  in  with  strong  timbers, 
branched  off  before  us  through  the  heart  ot  the  hill.  Along 
the  bottom  of  each  was  a  tram-way,  and  at  intervals  of  five 
minutes,  cars  laden  with  gray  river-sand  were  rolled  up, 
hitched  to  the  rope,  and  speedily  drawn  to  the  surface. 
Following  our  conductor,  we  traced  some  of  these  shafts 
to  the  end,  where  workmen  were  busy  excavating  the  close- 
packed  sand,  and  filling  the  cars.  The  company  intend 
running  their  drifts  to  the  end  of  their  claim,  when  they 
will  commence  working  back  toward  the  beginning,  clean- 
ing out  the  channel  as  they  go.  Probably,  three  or  four 
years  will  be  required  to  complete  the  task,  and  if  they 
are  not  very  unreasonable  in  their  expectations,  they  may 
retire  from  business  by  that  time.  We  sat  down  for  half 
an  hour,  with  the  unstable,  sandy  ceiling  impending  over 
our  heads,  and  watched  the  workmen.  They  used  no 
other  implements  than  the  pick  and  shovel,  and  the  only 
difficulty  connected  with  their  labor  was  the  impossibility 
of  standing  upright.  The  depth  of  the  sand  varied  from 
three  to  six  feet,  but  the  grains  of  gold  were  scantily  distri- 
buted through  the  upper  layers.  In  one  place,  where  the 
bed-rock  was  exposed,  we  saw  distinctly  the  thick  deposits 
of  minute  shining  scales,  in  situ. 

The  air  was  very  close  and  disagreeable,  and  the  unre- 
lieved stooping  posture  so  tiresome,  that  we  were  not 
sorry  when  the  guide,  having  scraped  up  a  panful  of  the 
bottom  sand,  conducted  us  by  watery  ways,  to  the  entrance 
shaft,  and  restored  us  to  daylight.  The  sand,  on  reaching 
the  surface,  is  tilted  down  an  opening  in  the  floor,  and  is 
instantly  played  upon  by  huge  jets  of  water,  which  sweep 


144  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

it  into  a  long  sluice.  Here  it  is  still  further  agitated  by- 
means  of  riffles  across  the  bottom,  and  the  gold  is  caught 
in  grooves  filled  with  quicksilver.  Every  week,  the 
amalgam  thus  produced  is  taken  out  and  assayed.  The 
tailings  of  these  sluices  are  frequently  corraled  (a  Califor- 
nia term  for  "  herded"  or  "  collected"),  and  run  through  a 
second  sluice,  or  turned  into  some  natural  ravine,  which  is 
washed  out  twice  a  year.  In  spite  of  this,  a  considerable 
percentage  of  the  gold,  no  doubt,  escapes.  There  is  a 
gentleman  in  Nevada,  who  owns  a  little  gully,  through 
which  runs  the  waste  of  a  drift  on  the  hill  above.  He  had 
the  sagacity  to  put  down  a  sluice  and  insert  quicksilver, 
thinking  sufficient  gold  might  be  left  in  the  sand  to  pay  for 
the  experiment ;  and  his  net  profits,  from  this  source, 
amount  to  fifteen  thousand  dollars  a  year. 

The  pan  of  dirt  brought  up  with  us,  having  been  skil- 
fully washed  in  the  old-fashioned  way,  produced  a  heap  of 
mustard-seed  grains,  to  the  value  of  five  or  six  dollars, 
which  was  courteously  presented  to  my  wife  as  a  souvenir 
of  her  visit.  Those  who  predict  the  speedy  failure  of  the 
gold  of  California,  do  not  know  what  wonderful  subterra- 
nean store-houses  of  the  precious  metal  still  lie  untouched. 
The  river-bars  were  but  as  windfalls  from  the  tree. 


*]. — ^Tbavelling  in  the  Sierra  Nevada. 

San  Juan  was  the  northern  limit  of  our  mountain  wan- 
derings. I  then  turned  southward — ^having  so  disposed  of 
my  time,  that  a  fortnight  would  be  devoted  to  the  mining 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  145 

regions  between  the  Yuba  and  the  Stanislaus.  Leaving 
Nevada  on  Thursday  afternoon,  we  drove  over  to  Grass 

Valley,  where  Mr.  E had  arranged  for  my  discourse  in 

the  theatre  that  evening.  I  found  that  the  announcement 
had  been  made  with  more  zeal  than  modesty.  When  that 
gentleman  asked  me,  before  starting  on  his  journey  of  pre- 
liminaries :  "  What  shall  I  put  on  the  posters  in  addition 
to  your  name  ?"  I  earnestly  charged  him  to  put  nothing 
at  all.  "  If  the  subject  of  the  lecture  will  not  attract  audi- 
tors, I  must  do  without  them  ;  and  I  shall  never  be  guilty 
of  blowing  my  own  trumpet."  I  leave  the  reader  to  ima- 
gine my  feelings,  when,  on  entering  Grass  Valley,  the 
colossal  words,  "  The  world-renowned  traveller  and  his- 
torian ! ! !"  stared  at  me  from  every  blank  wall.  And  so  it 
was  wherever  I  went.  My  agent's  indiscreet  zeal  made  me 
appear,  to  the  public,  not  only  as  a  monstrous  self-glorifier, 
but  also  as  arrogating  to  myself  a  title  to  which  I  had  no 
claim.  "  The  printers  would  have  it  so,"  was  his  meek 
excuse. 

Grass  Valley  and  Nevada,  being  only  four  miles  apart, 
and  very  nearly  of  the  same  size  and  importance,  are,  of 
course,  deadly  rivals.  Curiously  enough,  this  fact  was  the 
occasion  of  some  pecuniary  detriment  to  myself.  The  cir- 
cumstance was,  at  the  same  time,  laughable  and  vexatious. 
In  the  evening,  shortly  before  the  appointed  hour,  a  gen- 
tleman approached  me  with  a  mysterious  air,  and,  after 
some  beating  about  an  invisible  bush,  finally  asked,  phimply : 
"  Are  you  going  to  lecture  to-night  for  the  benefit  of  the 
Nevada  people  ?"  "  What  do  you  mean  ?"  I  exclaimed,  in 
great  astonishment.     "  Why,"  said  he,  "  it  is  reported  that 

7 


146  AT    HOME   AXD    ABROAD. 

the  Society  in  Nevada  has  engaged  you  to  come  here,  as 
if  on  your  own  account,  so  that  we  sha'n't  know  anything 
ahout  it,  and  they  are  to  have  the  profits !"  "  What  do 
you  take  me  foi-  ?"  I  asked,  indignant  at  such  a  mean  sus- 
picion ;  "but  even  if  JT  were  capable  of  it,  the  Nevada  peo- 
ple are  above  such  trickery,"  "  Well,"  said  he,  "  I  will 
hurry  out  and  correct  the  impression,  as  far  as  possible  j 
for  it  is  going  to  prevent  scores  of  people  from  coming  to 
hear  you." 

My  next  point  was  Forest  Hill,  a  new  mining  camp, 
situated  on  the  left  ridge  between  the  North  and  Middle 
Forks  of  the  American  River.  The  distance  was  more  than 
thirty  miles,  over  a  very  wild  and  bi'oken  portion  of  the 
mountains,  and  I  was  obliged  to  hire  a  two-horse  buggy 
and  driver,  at  an  expense  of  $35  for  the  trip.  A  miner 
from  Michigan  Bar,  returning  homeward,  also  joined  us, 
and  his  knowledge  of  the  road  proved  indispensable.  We 
took  an  eastward  course  on  leaving  Grass  Valley,  crossing 
bleak,  disforested  hills,  where  the  dust  was  frightfully  deep 
and  dry  ;  then,  approaching  Buena  Vista  Ranche,  plunged 
by  degrees  into  the  woods,  where  the  air  was  cool  and  bal- 
samic, and  the  burnt  ground  was  hidden  under  a  golden 
plumage  of  ferns.  The  road  at  last  dropped  into  a  linked 
succession  of  dells,  which  enchanted  us  with  their  beauty. 
The  giant  pillars  of  the  forest  rose  on  all  sides,  but  here  and 
there  the  pines  fell  back,  leaving  grassy  knolls  dotted  with 
clumps  of  oak,  or  green  meadows  fringed  with  laurel  and 
buckeye,  or  tangled  masses  of  shrubbery  and  vines.  Thei'e 
were  also  cottages  and  gardens,  secluded  in  these  Happy 
Valleys,  where,  one  sighed  to  think,  care,  and  pain,  and 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  147 

sorrow,  come  as  readily  as  to  the  bleakest  moor  or  the 
rudest  sea-shore. 

For  four  or  five  miles  we  drove  merrily  onward  through 
that  Arcadian  realm.  The  blue  sky  shone  overhead,  the 
pines  sang  in  the  raoi'ning  wind,  the  distant  mountains 
veiled  themselves  in  softer  purple,  and  the  exquisite  odors 
of  bay  and  pine,  and  dry,  aromatic  herbs  gave  sweetness  to 
the  air.  Then  the  scene  became  wilder,  a  rugged  canon 
received  us — a  gulf  opened  in  front — broken,  wooded  steeps 
rose  opposite,  and  we  commenced  the  descent  to  Bear 
Creek,  the  first  of  the  valleys  to  be  crossed.  It  was,  how- 
ever, an  easy  task,  compared  with  that  of  the  South  Yuba. 
The  road  was  stony  and  sideling,  to  be  sure,  but  not  more 
than  half  a  mile  in  descent. 

At  the  bottom  was  a  bridge — useless  in  the  dry  season — 
with  a  toll  of  a  dollar  and  a  half  at  the  further  end.  A 
ruddy,  bustling  woman,  who  kept  the  toll-house  and  accom- 
panying bar-room,  received  us  with  great  cordiality.  Hear- 
ing the  driver  address  me  by  name,  she  exclaimed :  "  Why, 
are  you  Mr.  Taylor  ?  Excuse  me  for  not  knowing  you ! 
And  that  is  your  wife,  I  suppose — how  do  you  do,  Mrs. 
Taylor  ?  Won't  you  have  a  bunch  of  grapes  ?"  Into  the 
house  she  popped,  and  out  again,  with  a  fine  cluster  of 
black  Haniburgs.  "  Now  then,"  she  continued,  "  since  we 
know  one  another,  you  must  come  and  see  me  often." 
"  With  pleasure,"  said  I ;  "  and  you  must  return  the  visit, 
though  it's  rather  a  long  way."  "  Oh,  I  don't  mind  that," 
she  rejoined  ;  "  but  you  must  stop  longer  the  next  time  you 
come  by" — which  I  readily  promised.  Really,  thought  I, 
as  we  drove  away,  this  is  fame  to  some  purpose.     How 


148  AT    HOME    AND    ABUOAD. 

friendly  this  woman  became,  as  soon  as  she  found  out  who 
I  was !  How  much  she  must  admire  my  writings  !  What 
a  sublime  contempt  she  has  for  time  and  space— inviting  us 
to  come  over  often^  and  visit  her  !  My  complacent  reflec- 
tions were  interrupted  by  a  chuckle  fi-om  the  driver. 
"  Well,"  said  he,  "  the  old  lady's  rather  took  in.  She 
thinks  you're  Mr.  Taylor,  that  lives  up  t'other  side  o'  the 
Buena  Vista  Ranche  !" 

Regaining  the  summit  on  the  southern  side,  we  found  a 
rolling  country,  ruder  and  more  broken  than  that  we  had 
passed  through,  and  in  half  an  hour  more  reached  a  large 
mining  camp,  called  Illinoistown.  It  was  eleven  o'clock, 
and  Ave  determined  to  push  on  to  Iowa  Hill,  eight  or  nine 
miles  further,  for  dinner.  As  Ave  approached  the  Noi'th 
Fork  of  the  American,  a  far  grander  chasm  than  any  Ave 
had  yet  encountered  yawned  before  us.  The  eaith  fell 
sheer  away  to  an  unknoAvn  depth  (for  the  bottom  was  invi- 
sible), Avhile  a  mighty  mountain  wall,  blue  Avith  the  heated 
haze  of  noonday,  rose  beyond,  leaning  against  the  sky. 
Far  to  the  east,  a  vision  of  still  deeper  gorges,  overhung 
by  Alpine  peaks,  glimmered  through  the  motionless  air. 
We  had  an  uninterrupted  descent  of  two  miles,  and  a  climb 
of  equal  length  on  a  road  hacked  with  infinite  labor  along 
the  sides  of  the  steeps,  and  necessarily  so  narrow  that  there 
Avere  but  few  points  Avhere  A'chicles  could  pass.  It  was  not 
long  before  Ave  arrived  at  a  pitch  so  abrupt  that  the  horses, 
with  all  their  good-will,  could  not  hold  back ;  Ave  alighted 
and  Avalked,  enjoying  the  giddy  views  into  the  abyss,  which 
enlarged  with  every  turn  of  the  road.  The  muddy  river 
was  already  in  sight,  and  the  bottom  seemed  not  fjir  distant. 


KEW  PICTURES  FKOM   CALIFORNIA.  149 

when  three  heavy  teams  emerged  from  around  a  corner, 
dragging  their  slow  length  up  the  height.  Our  driver 
selected  the  widest  part  of  the  road,  drove  to  the  edge,  and 
ran  his  near  wheels  into  the  outside  rut,  where  they  held 
firm,  while  the  off  portion  of  the  vehicle  dropped  over  the 
edge,  and  remained  thus,  half-suspended.  There  was  barely 
space  for  the  teams  to  graze  past.  We  reached  the  bottom 
with  tottering  knees,  and  faces  plastered  with  a  thick  mix- 
ture of  dust  and  sweat. 

The  bridge-toll  was  two  dollars — which,  however,  inclu- 
ded a  contribution  for  keeping  the  road  on  both  sides  in 
good  repair,  and  was  really  not  exorbitant.  The  road 
itself,  considering  the  youth  of  the  country,  is  a  marvel. 
We  found  the  ascent  very  tedious,  as  the  horses  wei*e 
obliged  to  stop  every  fifty  yards,  and  regain  their  wind. 
But  all  things  have  an  end ;  and  at  two  o'clock,  hot,  dusty, 
and  hungry,  we  drove  into  Iowa  Hill. 

This  was  formerly  a  very  flourishing  mining  town,  but 
has  of  late  fallen  off  considerably,  on  account  of  some  of 
the  richest  leads  giving  out.  In  spite  of  a  broad,  planked 
street,  hotels,  express  oflSces,  and  stores,  it  has  rather  a 
dilapidated  appearance.  At  the  tavern  where  we  stopped 
for  a  dinner,  the  following  notice  was  stuck  up  : 

"  constable's  sale. 
"  Fifty  Ghickins  and  Six  Rose  Bushes  will  be  sold  on  Friday  next." 

The  guests'  parlor  was,  at  the  same  time,  the  sitting- 
room  of  the  landlord's  family,  and,  while  we  were  waiting 
for  dinner,  the  hostess  entered  into  conversation  with  my 
wife.     "  Why  won't  you  stop  here  this  evenipg  ?"  she  asked. 


150  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

"  We  are  bound  for  Forest  Hill,"  was  the  reply.  "  But 
you  might  as  Avell  stop ;  our  theatre  is  empty,  and  every- 
body would  go."  Thinking  she  referred  to  my  lecture, 
my  wife  answered  :  "  The  engagement  was  made  at  Forest 
Hill  for  this  evening."  "  I  wish  I  could  go,"  exclaimed  the 
lady  ;  "  I  do  like  to  hear  concerts.  You  give  quartetts,  of 
course,  as  there  are  four  of  you.  Is  he  (pointing  to  the 
driver)  the  comic  one  ?  What  is  your  husband — tenor  or 
bass  ?  I'm  sure  you  could  get  our  theatre  at  a  minute's 
notice.  We  haven't  had  no  concei't  for  a  long  while  ;  and 
if  there's  fun,  you'd  have  lots  of  people  !" 

We  started  again  at  three,  as  there  were  still  twelve 
miles  to  be  gotten  over,  A  scene  of  truly  inspiring  beauty 
now  received  us.  Emerging  from  the  woods,  we  found 
ourselves  on  the  brink  of  a  deep,  wild,  winding  valley,  up 
which  streamed  the  afternoon  sun,  tinting  its  precipitous 
capes  and  their  feathery  mantle  of  forests  with  airy  gold, 
while  the  intervening  gulfs  slept  in  purple  gloom.  The 
more  gradual  slopes  on  either  side  were  nobly  wooded, 
with  a  superb  intermixture  of  foliage.  The  road — broad, 
smooth,  and  admirably  graded  (costing,  I  am  told,  $30,000) 
— wound  around  the  hollows  and  headlands,  sometimes 
buried  in  the  darkness  of  oracular  woods,  sometimes  poised 
in  sunshine  over  the  hazy  deeps.  Our  journey  across 
this  magnificent  valley  was  a  transit  of  delight.  There  is 
nothing  more  beautiful  anywhere  in  the  Sierra  Nevada, 

Now,  what  do  you  suppose  is  the  name  attached  to  this 
spot  ?  What  melodious  title  enfolds  in  its  sound  a  sugges- 
tion of  so  much  beauty  ?  It  is  called — conceal  thy  face, 
O  modest  reader !     I  write  it  with  a  blush  mantling  my 


NEW    PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  151 

steel-pen,  down  to  the  very  point — "  Shirt-tail  Canon !'' 
Palsied  be  the  profane  tongue  that  first  insulted  Nature  by 
bestowing  it !  The  story  is,  that  the  first  miner,  washing 
in  the  stream,  with  nothing  on  but  his  shirt,  was  seen  by  the 
next  comers,  carrying  up  his  gold  in  the  tail  thereof,  like 
an  apron,  regardless  of  appearances.  Be  that  as  it  may, 
this  part  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  has  been  made  infamous  by 
its  abundance  of  the  most  condemnable  names  which  a 
beastly  imagination  ever  invented.  A  little  further  up  in 
the  hills  is  a  mining-camp,  called  "  Hell's  Delight !"  There  is 
also  "  Bogus  Thunder"  not  far  ofi",  and  a  village  with  the 
delicious  appellation  of  "  Ground  Hog's  Glory  !"  Hallelu- 
jah !  what  a  field  the  future  poets  of  California  will  have  ! 
Fancy  one  of  them  singing : 

"  When  in  Shirt-Tail  Canon  buds  the  grove, 
And  the  larks  are  singing  in  Hell's  Delight, 
To  Ground  Hog's  Glory  I'll  come,  my  love, 
And  sing  at  thy  lattice  by  night  1" 

Or  thus : 

"  My  heart  is  torn  asunder, 
My  life  is  filled  with  pain  ; 
The  daughter  of  Bogus  Thunder 
Looks  on  me  with  disdain !" 

I  have  only  given  the  most  favorable  specimens.  There 
are  some  places,  the  names  of  which  are  current  from  mouth 
to  mouth,  but  which,  for  obvious  reasons,  are  never  printed. 
Some  of  them  are  out-of-way  camps,  which  will  never 
become  classic  localities — but  a  spot  of  such  remarkable 
beauty  as  the  canon  we  have  just  passed  through  (I  will 
not  repeat  the  name)  deserves  to  be  immediately  redeemed. 


152  AT   HOME   AND    ABKOAD. 

Let  me  suggest  a  title.  I  noticed  a  resemblance,  in  certain 
features,  to  a  wild  and  beautiful  valley  in  the  Taygetus. 
Let  it,  therefore,  be  called  "  Spartan  Caiion" — which  will, 
at  the  same  time,  convey  the  idea  of  the  original  name  to 
the  classical  traveller.  I  call  upon  ye,  inhabitants  of  Iowa 
Hill,  Forest  Hill,  Yankee  Jim's,  Mount  Hope,  and  Hell's 
Delight,  to  accept  this  name  (if  you  cannot  find  a  better) 
and  let  the  present  epithet  perish  with  the  wretch  who  first 
applied  it ! 

Toward  sunset  we  reached  Yankee  Jim's — a  very  pic- 
turesque and  cheerful  little  village,  in  spite  of  its  name. 
Thence,  there  were  four  miles  along  the  summit  of  a  ridge 
covered  with  gigantic  pines  and  arbor  vitae  (the  latter  often 
200  feet  high),  to  Forest  Hill.  The  splendor  of  the  sunset- 
glow  among  these  mountains  is  not  to  be  described.  The 
trees  stood  like  images  of  new  bronze,  inlaid  with  rubies — 
the  air  was  a  sea  of  crimson  fire,  investing  the  far-off  ridges 
with  a  robe  of  imperial  purple — while  dark-green  and  violet 
hues  painted  the  depths  that  lay  in  shadow.  The  contrasts 
of  color  were  really  sublime  in  their  strength  and  fierce- 
ness. 

We  wandered  off  the  trail,  and,  before  knowing  it,  found 
ourselves  in  the  bottom  of  a  weird  glen,  called  the  "  Devil's 
Caiion.''  The  dusk  was  creeping  on ;  sheets  of  blue  smoke, 
from  fires  somewhere  in  the  forest,  settled  down  between 
the  huge,  dark  trunks  ;  unearthly  whispers  seemed  to  float 
in  the  air ;  and  the  trail  we  followed  became  so  faint  in  the 
gloom  as  barely  to  be  discerned.  I  thought  of  the  "Wolf's 
Glen,''  in  Der  FreischiXtz  ;  and  "  Sumiel,  come  !  appear  !" 
was  on  my  lips.      The  only  exit  was  by  climbing  a  bank 


NEW    PICTURES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  153 

which  seemed  ahnost  perpendicular.  By  springing  out  and 
liolding  on  the  upper  side  of  the  vehicle,  we  prevented  it 
from  capsizing,  regained  the  proper  trail,  and  ere  long 
reached  Forest  Hill.  Mr.  Webster,  the  express  agent, 
kindly  tendered  us  the  hospitalities  of  his  house — the  repose 
of  which  was  most  grateful  after  our  long  journey. 

Forest  Hill  is  a  charming  little  place,  on  the  very  sum- 
mit of  the  lofty  ridge  overlooking  the  Middle  Fork  of  the 
American,  and  at  least  three  thousand  feet  above  the  sea. 
The  single  broad  street  is  shaded  by  enormous  pines  and 
oaks,  which  have  been  left  standing  as  the  forest  is  thinned 
away.  The  hill  is  perforated  with  drifts,  which  run  under 
the  town  itself;  and,  as  they  settle,  will  some  day  let  it  down 
— as  recently  occurred  at  Michigan  Bluffs,  where  the  people 
awoke  one  morning  to  find  one  side  of  the  street  five  feet 
lower  than  the  other.  Forest  Hill  is  a  new  and  successful 
camp,  and  probably  secure  for  two  or  three  years  yet: 
When  the  leads  fail,  it  will  fall  into  ruins,  like  Wisconsin  Hill. 

From  a  point  near  the  village,  we  had  a  fine  view  of  the 
main  chain  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  dividing  the  waters  of  the 
American  from  Carson  Valley.  Pyramid  Peak  (which  rises 
to  the  height'of  near  twelve  thousand  feet)  was  clearly  visi- 
ble, with  a  few  snow-fields  yet  lingering  on  its  northern  side. 
Directly  opposite  to  us  lay  Georgetown,  my  destination  for 
the  night ;  but  the  great  gulf  of  tjie  Middle  Fork  intervened  ; 
and  while  the  distance,  in  an  air-line,  was  not  more  than  five 
miles,  it  w^as  ten  miles  by  the  bridle-path  across,  and  thirty 
by  the  wagon-road  which  we  were  obliged  to  take.  This 
will  give  some  idea  of  the  grand  fissures  by  which  this 
region  is  divided. 

7* 


154  AT    HOME    AND    ABKOAD. 

The  journey  from  Forest  Hill  to  Georgetown  was  so 
tedious,  so  fatiguing,  and  so  monotonous,  that  I  have  no 
mind  to  say  much  about  it.  Our  vehicle  was  an  old- 
fashioned  carriage,  with  seats  about  six  inches  apart. 
Being  wedged  in  so  tightly,  we  were  doubly  sensitive  to 
the  incessant  furious  jolts  of  the  road  ;  while,  the  day  being 
intensely  hot  and  still,  the  dust  arose  in  clouds,  which 
rarely  allowed  us  to  open  our  eyes.  There  were  fifteen 
mortal  miles  of  jolting  down  the  gradually  descending 
ridge  to  Murderer's  Bar  (another  name  !)  and  then  fifteen 
miles  up  a  similar  ridge  to  Georgetown.  Here  and  there, 
we  had  a  pleasant  bit  of  landscape  ;  but  generally,  the 
scenery  was  tame,  compared  with  that  of  the  previous 
day. 

Georgetown  is  one  of  the  oldest  mining  camps  in  the 
State.  I  heard  of  it  in  1849,  although  my  trip  did  not  ex- 
tend so  far  north.  The  place  has  a  compact,  quiet,  settled 
appearance,  which  hints  at  stagnation  rather  than  progress. 
The  hotel  is  a  very  primitive  affair — the  bed-rooms  being 
simply  stalls,  divided  from  one  another,  and  from  the  sit- 
ting-room by  muslin  partitions.  The  theatre  is  a  bankrupt 
church :  nothing  seems  to  floui'ish  except  drinking  saloons. 
Mining  was  at  a  low  ebb  at  the  time  of  my  visit,  and  many 
persons  had  taken  up  gambling  instead.  Nevertheless, 
there  are  several  jolly  and  'genial  gentlemen  in  the  place, 
and  its  atmosphere  of  leisure  was  rather  attractive  to  me 
than  otherwise.  After  rising  in  season,  next  morning,  for 
the  journey  to  Placerville,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of  rousing 
the  sleeping  stable-men,  and  waiting  a  full  hour  in  the  grow- 
ing dawn  before  they  were  ready  with  the  vehicle.     Across 


NEW   PICTUKES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  165 

the  way  was  a  driuking-saloon,  in  which  a  company  of  gam- 
blers, who  had  been  sitting  there  the  evening  before,  were 
still  plying  their  trade,  with  haggard  faces,  and  blood-shot 
eyes.  The  law  against  gambling  is  quite  inoperative  in  the 
mining  districts,  as  the  Maine  Liquor  Law,  or  any  other 
statute  repressing  the  coarse,  natural  appetites  of  men  would 
be.  The  ruder  the  toil,  the  ruder  the  indulgence  for  which 
it  pays.  So  long  as  the  population  of  these  places  fluctu- 
ates according  to  the  mineral  wealth,  and  the  moi'al  influ- 
ence which  springs  from  a  stable  society  is  wanting,  this 
must  continue  to  be  the  case.  I  see  no  help  for  it.  Men 
will  have  cakes,  though  stufied  with  nightshade  berries; 
and  ale,  though  it  be  hell-broth. 

It  was  fairly  sunrise  before  we  got  away  from  George- 
town, and  the  temper  with  which  I  began  the  day's  jour- 
ney was  not  sweetened  by  the  knowledge  that  I  had  lost 
an  hour  of  precious  sleep  to  no  purpose.  But  the  balmy 
air,  the  golden  light,  and  the  soothing  flavor  of  a  sedative 
herb  worked  their  accustomed  magic,  and  I  reserved  my 
discontent  for  the  heat  and  dust  to  come.  We  travelled 
for  six  miles,  or  more,  through  a  succession  of  pleasant 
little  valleys,  all  more  or  less  populated,  and,  consequently, 
ravaged  and  devastated  by  pick  and  spade.  In  place  of 
the  green  meadows,  set  in  circles  of  glorious  forest,  as  in 
1849,  there  were  unsightly  heaps  of  dirt  and  stones,  and 
naked  hill-sides,  perforated  with  drifts,  and  spanned  by 
lofty  flumes,  from  which  poured  torrents  of  liquid  mud, 
rather  than  water.  Nature  here  reminds  one  of  a  princess, 
fallen  into  the  hands  of  robbers,  who  cut  off  her  fingers  for 
the  sake  of  the  jewels  she  wears. 


156  AT    HOME    AND    ABEOAD. 

The  passage  of  the  South  Fork  of  the  American,  which 
followed,  resembled  that  of  the  other  branches,  on  a  smaller 
scale.  Once  on  the  summit,  two  miles  across  the  flat  top 
of  the  ridge  brought  us  to  the  brink  of  a  narrow,  winding 
valley,  in  the  bottom  of  which  lay  Placerville.  Passing 
between  rows  of  neat  cottages,  shaded  with  young  cotton- 
woods,  or  embowered  in  trellises  of  passion-flower  and 
Australian  pea,  we  reached  the  business  portion  of  the 
town — jammed  in  the  narrow  bed  between  the  hills,  com- 
pact, paved,  and  bustling — and  halted  at  the  Gary  House. 
To  travellers  coming  from  Utah,  who  have  lived  ten  days 
on  salt  pork,  and  drank  the  alkaline  waters  of  Humboldt 
River,  this  hotel  must  seem  a  veritable  Elysium ;  and  even 
to  us,  who  had  had  no  breakfast,  and  were  unconscionably 
hungry,  it  was  a  welcome  haven.  Clean,  comfortable 
rooms,  and  an  obliging  host,  seconded  the  first  impression, 
and  I  did  not  so  much  wonder  at  the  toughness  of  the 
meats,  on  learning  that  there  is  but  one  butcher  in  the 
place,  who  buys  out  or  competitiously  ruins,  all  rivals. 

The  diggings  around  Placerville  are  among  the  oldest  in 
California.  The  place  was  known,  in  1849,  as  "Hang- 
town,"  but  having  become  a  permanent  centre  of  business, 
and  the  capital  of  Eldorado  County,  the  original  name 
(suggestive  of  Lynch  law)  was  very  properly  dropped.  I 
cannot  say,  however,  that  property  is  much  more  secure 
than  under  the  old  regime.  A  few  days  before  our  arrival, 
the  County  Treasurer's  ofllce  was  broken  into,  and  the  pub- 
lic funds,  amounting  to  $8,000,  carried  off.  Scarcely  a  day 
passed  during  our  sojourn  in  the  mountains,  without  our 
hearing  of  some  store  or  express  oflice  being  plundered, 


KEW   PICTURES   PROM   CALIFORNIA.  157 

and  it  did  not  once  happen  that  the  thief  was  caught.  As 
the  currency  is  specie  (banks  being  prohibited  by  the  Con- 
stitution), money  is  a  serious  embarrassment.  Besides,  it 
cannot  be  identified,  if  stolen.  One  result  of  this  prohibi- 
tion is,  that  many  capitalists,  having  no  secure  place  of 
deposit,  bury  their  money  until  they  need  it.  From  one 
end  of  California  to  the  other,  coin  is  potted  and  put  into 
the  earth  for  safe  keeping.  Often,  when  a  farmer  wishes 
to  make  an  investment,  you  may  see  him  measuring  so 
many  feet  from  such  a  tree,  at  such  an  angle  with  such 
another  tree,  etc.,  until  he  has  found  the  right  spot,  when 
he  will  dig  you  up  five,  or  ten,  or  twenty  thousand  dollars. 
This  is  a  phenomenon  which  I  commend  to  the  attention  of 
political  economists. 

To  return  to  Placerville.  The  sides  of  the  hills  around 
are  scarred  with  surface-mining  and  penetrated  with  drifts, 
while  the  stamps  of  quartz-mills  may  be  heard  pounding  in 
the  valley.  Ditches,  brought  from  the  river  twenty-seven 
miles  above,  are  carried  along  the  summits  of  the  ridges, 
where  they  not  only  furnish  means  for  washing  the  dirt, 
but  occasionally  irrigate  gardens  on  the  slopes.  The  best 
placers,  I  was  told,  are  exhausted,  and  mining  in  the  imme- 
diate neighborhood  of  the  town  is  rather  precarious,  at 
pi'esent.  I  was  more  interested  in  visiting  the  reservoir  of 
the  Water  Company,  on  a  height  some  three  or  four  miles 
distant.  The  cost  of  the  ditch,  fluming,  etc.,  was  upwards 
of  $750,000.  No  idea  can  be  formed  of  the'immense  labor 
bestowed  on  such  works,  along  the  whole  range  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada.  There  has  been  some  wild  engineering,  it 
is   true,  and   many  of  the  works  might  have  been  con- 


158  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

structed  at  half  the  expense  ;  yet  they  are  none  the 
less  an  exhibition  of  the  colossal  enterprise  of  the  new 
country. 

In  the  afternoon,  we  paid  a  visit  to  a  quartz  mill,  in  a 
little  ravine  behind  the  town.  The  propelling  power  is 
steam,  and  the  capacity  of  the  mill  twenty  stamps,  which 
will  crush  about  one  hundred  tons  of  rock  per  week.  These 
stamps  are  simply  heavy  iron  pounders,  lifted  by  the  action 
of  cogs  on  a  main  shaft,  which  turns  behind  them,  and  then 
allowed  to  fall  on  the  pieces  of  broken  quartz,  which  are 
fed  in  below.  A  stream  of  water  flows  constantly  over  the 
bed  whereupon  they  fall,  carrying  away  the  powdered  rock, 
after  it  has  been  reduced  to  sufficient  fineness,  over  an  in- 
clined plane,  at  the  bottom  of  which  it  is  gathered  into  a 
sluice.  The  quicksilver  then  separates  the  gold  in  the  usual 
way.  No  use,  I  believe,  has  yet  been  made  of  the  refuse 
quartz-powder ;  but  I  should  think  it  might  be  profitably 
employed  in  the  manufacture  of  stone-ware.  The  plan  of 
working  is  the  simplest  that  can  be  devised.  In  many 
places,  the  old  Spanish  arastra  is  still  employed.  This  is  a 
hopper,  in  the  centre  of  which  is  an  upright  shaft,  turned 
by  horse-power,  in  the  same  manner  as  a  cider-mill.  From 
the  shaft  project  two  horizontal  bars,  at  the  end  of  which 
heavy  stones  are  suspended,  while  the  hopper  is  filled  with 
broken  quartz.  By  the  turning  of  the  shaft,  the  stones  are 
dragged  over  the  quartz,  slowly  crushing  and  reducing  it. 
It  is  a  tedious,  but  very  cheap  manner  of  extracting  the 
gold. 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  159 


8. — ^The  Southern  Mines. 

Hitherto,  my  journeys  iii  the  Sierra  Nevada  had  been 
entirely  over  new  ground ;  but  now,  I  was  to  revisit  the 
field  of  my  adventures  in  1849.  I  looked  forward  with 
much  interest  to  seeing  again  the  bear-haunted  woods,  the 
glens  where  I  had  been  lulled  to  sleep  by  the  baying  of  the 
wolves,  and  where  a  chorus  of  supernatural  voices  sang  to 
my  excited  imagination.  The  fresh,  inspiring  beauty  of 
those  scenes  was  still  present  to  my  eye,  and  I  did  not 
doubt  that  I  should  find  them,  if  possible,  still  more  attrac- 
tive since  the  advent  of  civDization. 

The  first  point  to  be  reached  was  Jackson,  the  capital  of 
Amador  county,  about  thirty-five  miles  fromPlacerville.  As 
it  was  a  cross  road,  traversing  the  ridges  at  right  angles, 
this  was  an  ample  journey  for  one  day.  We  were  obliged 
to  start  before  sunrise,  taking  the  Folsom  stage  as  far  as 
Mud  Springs,  whence,  after  a  delay  of  an  hour,  another 
vehicle  set  out  for  Drytown.  This  interval  we  employed  in 
getting  breakfast,  which,  had  quantity  and  quality  been  re- 
versed, would  have  been  a  good  meal.  The  table-clotlj,  from 
its  appearance,  might  have  lain  all  night  in  a  barnyard,  tram" 
pled  by  the  feet  of  cattle ;  upon  it  were  plains  of  leathery  beef, 
swimming  in  half-congealed  tallow,  mountains  of  sodden 
potatoes  and  leaden  biscuit,  with  yellow,  stratified  streaks  of 
potash,  and  seas  of  black,  bitter  fluid,  which — mixed  with 
damp,  brown  sugar,  and  cold,  thin  milk — was  called  coifeCw 
Satan  would  have  rejoiced  to  see  the  good  gifts  of  God  so 
perverted.     We  starved  in  the  midst  of  plenty.     It  was 


160  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

"  Victuals,  victuals  everywhere, 
And  not  a  bit  to  eat." 

Presently  the  stage  came  along.  It  was  a  square-bodied 
machine,  with  imperfect  springs,  drawn  by  two  horses.  The 
seats  were  hard  and  flat,  and  covered  with  slippery  leather. 
As  Cowper  says,  "  The  slippery  seat  betrayed  the  sliding 
part ;"  and  one  was  obliged  to  be  on  the  look-out,  lest  he 
should  find  himself  on  the  floor  of  the  vehicle  in  descend- 
ing the  hills. 

The  country  through  which  we  drove,  though  at  a  consi- 
derable elevation  above  the  sea,  was  comparatively  level. 
It  was  sparsely  timbered,  and  more  brown  and  scorched 
in  appearance  than  the  hot  plains  below.  Here  and  there, 
however,  were  some  pleasant  little  valleys — still  pleasant  to 
the  eye,  though  cruelly  mutilated  by  the  gold-diggei's. 
Quartz-mills,  driven  by  steam,  were  frequent ;  I  could  not, 
however,  ascertain  their  proportion  of  success.  I  was  struck 
with  the  great  variety  of  opinion  regarding  quartz-mining 
among  those  with  whom  I  conversed.  I  made  it  a  point  to 
ascertain  the  views  of  intelligent  men,  for  the  purpose  of 
drawing  juster  conclusions.  I  found  about  an  equal  num- 
ber of  the  sanguine  and  desponding.  Some  said :  "  The 
richest  yield  is  at  the  top  of  the  vein;  it  gradually  runs  out 
as  you  go  downward" — while  others  affirmed,  with  equal 
certainty:  "The  gold  increases  as  you  approach  the  bed- 
rock ;  and  it  is  very  evident  that  quartz-mining  will  give  a 
deeper  return  as  the  drifts  are  sunk  deeper."  Most  of  tliem, 
however,  considered  the  auriferous  harvests  of  California  as 
tolerably  certain  for  the  next  fifty  years. 

After  several  additional  miles,  through  the  same  torn  and 


NEW  PICTUBES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  161 

devastated  region,  oiFering  very  little  to  gratify  the  eye,  we 
reached  Drytown.  This  is  a  village  of  four  or  five  hundred 
inhabitants,  in  a  district  once  famed  for  its  rich  placers. 
The  only  interest  it  had  for  us  was,  that  it  gave  us  a  dinner, 
and  an  hour's  respite  from  our  jolting  stage-coach.  Both 
these  refreshments  were  welcome,  as  we  still  had  ten  or 
twelve  miles  to  Jackson. 

I  now  began  to  look  out  for  remembered  land-marks ;  but 
after  a  time  gave  up  all  hopes  of  recognising  anything  which 
I  had  seen  before.  In  1849,  I  had  travelled  this  road  on 
foot,  plodding  along  through  noble  forests,  which  showered 
their  suspended  rain-drops  upon  my  head,  rarely  catching  a 
view  of  the  surrounding  hills.  Now,  the  forests  are  cut 
away ;  the  hollows  are  fenced  and  farmed ;  the  heights  are 
hot  and  bare ;  quartz-mills  shriek  and  stamp  beside  the  road, 
and  heavy  teams,  enveloped  in  dust,  replace  the  itinerant 
miners,  with  wash-bowl  on  back  and  pick  in  hand.  The 
aspect  of  this  region  is  therefore  completely  changed.  Even 
the  village  of  Amador,  which  I  remembered  as  a  solitary 
ranche,  was  no  longer  to  be  recognised.  The  changes 
wei'e  for  the  worse,  so  far  as  the  beauty  of  the  scenery  is 
concerned. 

After  crossing  Dry  Creek,  the  road  ascended  a  long, 
gradual  slope,  on  gaining  the  crest  of  which,  I  cried  out  in 
delight  at  the  vision  before  us.  The  level,  crimson  rays  of 
the  sun  streamed  through  the  hazy  air,  smiting  the  summits 
of  the  mountains  with  a  bloody  glow.  In  the  valley,  two 
miles  ofi",  lay  Jackson,  half  hidden  by  belts  and  groups  of 
colossal  pines.  High  in  the  east  towered  the  conical  peak 
of  The  Butte,  which  my  feet  first  scaled,  and  to  which  I 


162  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

gave  the  name  of  Polo's  Peak.  In  front,  violet  against  the 
burning  sky,  was  Mokelumne  Hill  and  the  picturesque 
heights  around  the  Lower  Bar — while  far  away,  in  an  atmo- 
sphere of  gorgeous  color,  we  saw,  or  thought  we  saw,  a 
pyramid  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  I  knew  the  prominent 
features  of  the  landscape,  yet  beheld  them  again,  as  in  a 
dream. 

My  recollections  of  Jackson  were  of  two  rough  shanties 
in  the  woods,  w^here  I  tried  to  feed  a  starving  horse  on  coi-n- 
meal,  and  afterward  slept  all  night  on  a  raw  hide  spread  on 
the  ground,  beside  an  Indian  boy.  Now,  in  the  falling  twi- 
light, we  drove  down  a  long,  compact  street,  thronged  with 
miners  and  traders,  noticed  the  gardens  in  the  rear,  the 
church  and  court-house,  and  finally  a  two-story  hotel,  with 
a  veranda  filled  with  tropical  flowers.  As  the  sunset  faded, 
and  the  half-moon  shone  in  the  sky,  veiling  whatever  was 
peculiarly  Califoi'nian  in  the  appearance  of  the  place,  I  could 
easily  have  believed  myself  in  some  town  of  the  Apennines. 

Midway  between  Jackson  and  Mokelumne  Hill  rises  the 
Butte,  a  noble  landmark  far  and  wide  through  the  moun- 
tains. On  my  way  to  the  Volcano,  in  November,  1849,  I 
climbed  to  its  summit  ;*  and  by  right  of  discovery,  conferred 
upon  it  the  name  of  a  brave  old  Indian  Chieftain  (Polo), 
who  once  lived  in  the  neighborhood.  I  had  hoped  the 
name  might  remain,  but  was  disappointed.  It  is  now  uni- 
versally called  the  Butte  (which  means  any  isolated  hill), 
and  all  ray  inquiries  had  no  greater  success  than  to  ascer- 
tain that  there  was  one  man  on  the  Mokelumne  who  had 
heard  some  other  man  say,  years  ago,  that  he  (the  other 
man)  had  heard  it  once  called  "  Polo's  Peak."     My  good 


NEW   PICTUEES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  163 

name  (as  I  conceived  it  to  be)  is  forgotten,  while  "  Bogus 
Thunder"  and  "  New-York-of-the-Pacific "  still  exist.  Such 
is  life  ! 

I  was  glad  to  find,  however,  that  a  tradition  of  my  ascent 
is  still  preserved  in  the  neighborhood.  The  summit  is  now 
a  favorite  place  of  resort  for  pic-nic  parties,  in  the  pleasant 
season.  Not  long  ago,  a  romantic  widow  of  Jackson  made 
it  a  condition  that  she  should  be  married  there — which  was 
accordingly  done ;  clergyman,  bride's-maids,  friends,  and 
refreshments  all  being  conveyed  to  the  top.  There  is  no 
limit,  however,  to  the  eccentric  fancies  of  brides.  During 
the  State  Fair  at  Sacramento,  a  young  couple  succeeded  in 
having  themselves  married  on  the  platform  of  the  great 
hall,  in  the  view  of  two  thousand  people.  While  in  Minne- 
sota, I  heard  of  a  marriage  behind  the  sheet  of  Minne-ha-ha. 
Fancy  the  happy  pair  standing  with  their  feet  in  mud  and 
their  heads  in  spray,  the  clergyman  yelling  through  the 
thunder  of  the  fall :  "Wilt  thou  have  this  man?"  etc.,  and 
the  bride  screaming  "I  will!"  at  the  top  of  her  voice! 
Others  have  been  married  in  the  Mammoth  Cave,  on  Table 
Rock,  on  the  Washington  Monument,  in  a  balloon,  for 
aught  I  know.  Whenever  I  see  such  an  external  straining 
after  sentiment,  I  always  suspect  an  inner  lack  of  it. 

Th^  next  morning  dawned  warm  and  cloudless.  Our 
day's  journey  was  but  eight  miles  to  the  village  of  Moke- 
lumne  Hill,  which  we  had  seen  the  evening  before,  in  the 
last  rays  of  the  sun,  on  the  top  of  a  mountain  beyond  the 
Mokelumne.  I  therefore  hired  a  two-horse  buggy,  with  a 
bright,  intelligent  driver,  and  we  set  out  early,  to  avoid  the 
noonday  heat.     After  ci-ossing  some  hills,  which  gave  us 


164  AT  HOME  a:nd  abkoad. 

lovely  vieAvs  toward  Polo's  Peak,  we  entered  a  narrow 
canon,  winding  downward  to  the  river  between  steep  accli- 
vities. The  road,  Avliich  was  broad  and  of  easy  grade,  had 
been  excavated  and  built  up  with  great  labor ;  ditches  of 
sparkling  water  ran  along  the  opposite  bank,  and  groups 
of  bay,  evergreen  oak,  and  manzanita  rose  warm  in  the  sun- 
shine. While  Ave  Avere  heartily  enjoying  the  Avild,  shifting 
beauty  of  the  glen,  the  driver  suddenly  turned  around  to 
me,  saying : 

_"  You  knoAv  this  place,  don't  you  ?" 

"  I  seem  to  recognise  parts  of  it,"  said  I,  "  but  everything 
is  so  changed,  since  '49,  that  I  could  not  be  certain." 

"  Why,"  he  exclaimed,  "  the  people  say  you  are  the  first 
man  that  ever  went  through  this  caiion  !" 

Looking  more  closely,  and  taking  the  bearings  of  the  hill 
above  Lower  Bar  and  the  Butte,  I  saw  that  it  A\'as  in  reality 
the  same  ravine  up  which  I  had  climbed  after  leaving  the 
river,  supposing  that  it  might  be  a  shorter  passage  to  an 
Indian  trail  beyond.  The  old,  forgotten  picture  came  back 
suddenly,  as  if  revealed  by  some  lightning-flash  in  the  dark 
of  Memory.  There  was  the  gusty  November  sky ;  the  wild 
ravine,  wet  with  recent  rains ;  dark  pines  rising  from  its 
depths;  suspicious  clumps  of  madrono  and  manzanita, 
which  might  conceal  some  grizzly  bear;  and  myself,  in 
well-worn  corduroy  ai'mor,  slowly  mounting  the  rocky  bed 
of  the  stream.  This  circumstance,  which  I  had  wholly  for- 
gotten, had  been  remembered  by  others,  and  the  descent 
of  the  canon  had  a  double  enjoyment  to  me,  after  the 
discovery. 

We  came  upon  the  Mokelumne  River  at  Middle  Bar,  a 


NEW   PICTURES  FROM   CALIFOKNIA.  165 

great  bed  of  gravel  and  sand,  now  almost  deserted,  except 
by  a  few  Chinamen  in  huge  umbrella  hats,  who  were  forag- 
ing here  and  there,  after  the  gleanings  left  by  the  white 
harvesters.  A  turn  of  the  river  concealed  from  my  view 
the  camp  on  the  hill-side  at  Lower  Bar,  where  Lieut.  Beale 
and  I  had  shared  the  hospitality  of  Baptiste,  the  voyagem% 
and  where,  during  a  two-days'  rain,  I  had  amused  myself 
by  watching  Senator  Gwin  lay  down  the  political  wires 
which  he  afterward  pulled  to  some  purpose.  There  I  ven- 
tured on  my  first  and  last  speculation.  I  was  persuaded 
to  invest  $200  in  an  operation  for  damming  the  river.  It 
promised  well,  the  work  was  completed,  the  washings 
turned^out  splendidly,  and  I  was  in  full  hopes  of  receiving 
$1,000  in  return  for  my  venture,  when  the  rains  fell,  the 
river  rose,  and  away  went  the  dam.  "  Let  me  give  you  a 
serious  piece  of  advice,"  said  Washington  Irving  to  me, 
one  day,  "  never  invest  your  money  in  anything  that  pays 
a  hundred  per  cent. !"  And  I  never  have,  since  then,  and 
never  w^ill. 

For  the  sake  of  old  times,  I  should  gladly  have  gone 
down  to  the  Lower  Bar,  but  the  sun  was  already  high  and 
hot,  and  an  ascent  of  near  a  mile  and  a  half  lay  before  us. 
The  Mokelumne  at  this  point,  however,  does  not  lie  in  a 
tremendous  trough,  like  the  Forks  of  the  American  and 
the  Yuba;  the  steeps  on  either  side  are  of  irregular  height, 
and  broken  by  frequent  lateral  canons.  The  scenery  is, 
therefore,  less  savage  and  forbidding  in  appearance,  but 
infinitely  more  picturesque.  On  reaching  the  summit  of 
the  mountain  plateau,  we  saw  before  us  the  vilhigo — 
perched,  as  it  were,  on  scattered  hills,  a  loftier  peak  over 


166  AT    UOME   AXD    ABROAD, 

hanging  it  on  the  east,  a  table-shaped  mountain  (with  a 
race-coui-se  on  the  top),  guarding  it  on  the  south,  while 
elsewhere  the  steeps  dropped  off  into  gorges  filled  with 
dim  blue  mist.  Though  on  a  still  grander  scale,  it  reminded 
me  somewhat  of  the  positions  of  Perugia,  or  Narni,  among 
the  Roman  Apennines. 

In  other  respects,  the  resemblance  was  quite  as  striking. 
The  dry  soil,  with  its  rich  tints  of  orange  and  burnt  sienna 
— the  evergreen  oaks,  so  much  resembling  the  Italian  ilex 
— the  broad-leaved  fig-trees  in  the  gardens — the  workmen 
with  bare,  sunburnt  breasts — the  dolce  far  niente  of  a  few 
loungers  in  the  shade — and  the  clear,  hot,  October  sky,  in 
which  there  was  no  prophecy  of  winter,  all  belonged  to 
the  lands  of  the  Mediterranean.  If  we  had  here  the  grace 
which  Art  has  cast  over  those  lands,  thought  I,  we  might 
dispense  with  the  magic  of  their  history. 

Bidding  a  reluctant  good-bye  to  Mokelumne  Hill,  next 
morning,  we  continued  our  journey  southward  across  the 
mountains — our  next  destination  being  San  Andreas,  the 
court-town  of  Calaveras  county.  The  table-shaped  moun- 
tain behind  the  former  town  is  the  water-shed  between  the 
Mokelumne  and  the  Calaveras — the  latter  river  having  a 
broad  and  comparatively  shallow  basin,  with  numerous  afllu- 
ents,  while  the  Mokelumne  and  the  Stanislaus,  to  the  north 
and  south  of  it,  flew  through  deep,  precipitous  troughs. 
After  we  had  passed  the  summit,  our  road  dropped  into  a 
picturesque,  winding  glen,  beyond  which  rose  the  blue  mass 
of  the  lofty  Bear  Mountain. 

It  was  a  journey  of  only  eight  miles  to  San  Andreas, 
through  a  rolling,  cheerful  country,  with  some  beginnings 


NEW  PICTURES   FEOM   CALIFOENIA.  167 

at  cultivation.  A  farmer  who  was  threshing  his  wheat  in 
the  open  air  informed  me  that  the  yield  averaged  forty- 
two  bushels  to  the  acre ;  this,  of  course,  without  manure,  and 
with  the  most  superficial  ploughing.  The  vine  grew  with 
the  most  astonishing  luxuriance  wherever  it  was  planted, 
and  I  have  not  the  least  doubt  that  the  best  wines  of  Cali- 
fornia will  ultimately  be  produced  from  the  hill-sides  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada.  As  we  approached  the  Calaveras  river, 
the  range  of  Bear  Mountain  rose  high  and  blue  on  our  left, 
like  a  last  bulwark  against  the  plain  of  the  San  Joaquin. 
The  view  from  its  summit  is  said  to  be  magnificent. 

At  noon  we  reached  San  Andreas,  a  village  of  perhaps 
eight  hundred  inhabitants,  scattered  over  the  northern 
slope  of  a  hill,  whose  conical  summit  overhangs  it.  The 
place  is  neither  so  picturesque  nor  so  well-built  as  Moke- 
lumne  Hill,  Avith  the  exception  of  the  hotel,  a  new  and 
spacious  edifice  of  brick.  Here,  everything  was  neat  and 
commodious,  and  we  congratulated  ourselves  on  finding 
such  agreeable  quarters.  The  hot  autumnal  afternoon  dis- 
posed to  laziness,  yet  we  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
of  strolling  through  and  around  the  town,  running  the 
gauntlet  of  the  curious  eyes  of  the  loafers  congregated 
about  the  dooi's  of  the  drinking-saloons. 

In  their  structure,  these  mining  villages  are  very  similar. 
The  houses  are  built  close  against  each  other,  as  in  a  large 
city.  The  most  of  them  are  of  wood,  and  one  story  in 
height.  Here  and  there,  you  see  a  block  of  brick  stores, 
two  stories  high,  flat-roofed,  and  with  iron  doors  and 
shutters,  as  a  protection  against  fire.  There  are  plank 
sidewalks,  and  very  often  the  streets  are  planked,  also. 


168  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

Awnings  keep  off  the  hot  sun,  and  verandas  are  introduced 
wherever  it  is  practicable.  Behind  the  main  street  are 
clusters  of  shanties  inhabited  by  the  miners — small,  dusty, 
barren  of  ornament,  and  usually  standing  alone,  with  a 
rough  oven  of  stones  and  clay  adjoining.  On  the  outskirts 
of  these  are  the  still  more  rude  and  repulsive  dwellings  of 
the  Chinese.  The  alleys  between  are  strewed  with  rags, 
old  clothes,  broken  bottles,  and  miscellaneous  filth,  and 
swarm  with — fleas,  at  least.  This  portion  of  the  village 
strikingly  resembles  the  native  towns  in  Central  Africa. 
There  are  usually  one  hotel,  one  small  church,  a  theatre  of 
rough  boards,  and  five-and-twenty  dram-shops  to  a  place. 
On  pleasant  locations  in  the  vicinity,  are  the  comfortable 
residences  and  gardens  of  the  successful  traders,  the  owners 
of  "  leads,"  or  quartz-mills,  and  the  holders  of  office. 

Life  in  such  a  place,  to  a  refined  and  cultivated  man, 
must  be  rather  dreary.  There  is  already,  it  is  true,  some 
little  society ;  but  relaxation  of  any  kind  is  irregular  and 
accidental,  rather  than  permanent.  Women  fail ;  reading 
(except  of  political  newspapers)  is  an  obsolete  taste ;  and 
the  same  excess  which  characterizes  labor  is  too  often 
applied  to  amusements.  On  the  other  hand,  there  is  a 
freedom  from  restraint — an  escape  from  that  social  tyranny 
•which  is  the  curse  of  the  Atlantic  States — almost  sufficient 
to  reconcile  one  to  the  loss  of  the  other  advantages  of 
society.  I  do  not  think  that  the  Californians,  now  that 
they  have  cast  off  their  trammels,  will  ever  voluntarily 
assume  them  again.  The  worst  feature  of  the  absorbing 
rage  for  gold  is  the  indifference  of  the  people  to  the 
morality  of  those  whom  they  elect  to  office.      No  State 


NEW  PICTURES   FKOM   CALIFORNIA.  169 

in  the  Union  has  been,  and  still  is,  more  shamefully 
plnndered. 

Reaching  the  slope  of  the  hill,  where  a  hot  breeze, 
charged  with  rich,  niinty  odors,  blew  in  our  faces,  we 
climbed  to  the  summit,  which,  as  we  now  saw,  was  a  level 
of  about  two  acres,  laid  out  and  inclosed  as  the  cemetery 
of  San  Andreas.  A  lofty  cross  is  its  appropriate  crown. 
No  roses  were  planted  on  the  graves,  but  the  manzanita 
and  a  sort  of  dwarf  ilex  grew  in  clusters.  The  place  had 
a  solemn,  yet  soothing  and  cheerful  aspect.  No  nearer 
hills  inteiTupted  the  azure  circle  of  the  air,  wherein  the 
distant  mountains  floated ;  the  noises  of  labor,  and  trade, 
and  profanity,  and  jollity,  in  the  town  below,  blended  into 
an  indistinguishable  hum ;  while,  to  the  east  and  west,  a 
gap  in  the  mountains  seemed  purposely  left,  that  the  sun 
might  give  this  spot  his  first  and  latest  greeting.  The  pre- 
dominant colors  of  the  landscape  were  blue  and  a  pale 
golden-brown,  mottled  with  the  dark,  rich  green  of  scatter- 
ing trees.  A  range  of  irregular  peaks  to  the  east  shut  out 
the  snowy  chain  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  but  a  lofty  moun- 
tain, near  the  head-waters  of  the  Stanislaus,  was  visible,  far 
in  the  south. 

From  the  flat  roof  of  the  veranda,  upon  which  our  win- 
dow opened,  we  enjoyed  a  delicious  view  of  the  sunset  illu- 
mination of  the  landscape.  Evening  after  evening,  the 
same  phenomenon  had  been  repeated — a  transmutation  of 
the  air  into  Jltiid  color,  of  a  pale  crimson  tinge,  which  lent 
itself  to  every  object  touched  by  the  sun.  The  mountains 
shone  like  masses  of  glowing  metal,  and  the  trees  near  at 
hand  stood  as  if  formed  of  compact  flame.     During   the 

8 


170  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD, 

few  rninutes  of  snnsot  the  color  changed  into  the  purest 
Vermillion,  after  which  it  gradually  faded  into  dull  purple, 
followed  by  an  ofter-glom  (as  among  the  Alps),  of  faint 
golden  radiance.  The  wind  always  falls  at  this  hour,  and 
the  atmosphere  is  balmy,  and  fragrant  with  the  odor  of 
dry  herbs.  The  nights  are  cool,  but  not  cold — making  one 
blanket  comfortable,  and  requiring  no  more, 

"We  hailed  the  morrow,  for  it  was  to  take  us  to  the  south- 
ern limit  of  our  journey  through  the  mining  regions.  Two 
weeks  of  such  rough,  dusty  travel,  unrelieved  by  a  single 
day  of  rest,  had  made  us  heartily  weary,  while  the  scenery, 
grand  as  it  is,  is  nevertheless  too  monotonous  to  inspire  an 
unflagging  sense  of  enjoyment.  The  stage-coaches  are  ter- 
ribly uncomfortable,  and  the  inhaling  of  an  atmosphere  of 
dust  which  effectually  hides  your  complexion  and  the  color 
of  your  hair  in  the  course  of  two  or  three  hours,  is  not  one 
of  those  trifling  discomforts  to  which  you  soon  become 
accustomed.  It  is  said  not  to  be  unhealthy — in  fact,  our 
lungs  suffered  no  inconvenience  from  it — but  it  oflen  pro- 
duces violent  inflammation  in  weak  eyes.  There  are  in- 
stances of  persons  having  endangered  their  sight  from  this 
cause.  The  first  symptom  is  an  acute  pain,  intermittent  in 
its  character — which,  if  not  allayed,  terminates  in  ophthal- 
mia more  malignant  than  that  of  Egypt.  Women  are  more 
subject  to  it  than  men,  and  the  worst  cases  are  probably 
those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  a  life  of  unnatural  semi- 
darkness  at  home. 

At  nine  o'clock,  the  stage-coach  frpm  Mokelumne  Hill  to 
Sonora  arrived,  and  we  took  passage  to  the  latter  place, 
thirty-four  miles  distant.      As  fate  would  have  it,  I  was 


NEW   PICTUKES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  IVl 

crammed  into  the  narrow  back-seat,  beside  a  disgusting 
Chinaman.  If  there  had  been  any  enjoyment  in  the  jour- 
ney, this  fact  alone  would  have  spoiled  it.  The  stale,  musky 
odor  of  the  race  is  to  me  unendurable :  no  washing  can 
eradicate  it,  and  this  fellow  was  not  washed.  Hue,  in  his 
travels  in  Tartary,  refers  to  the  peculiar  smell  of  the  Chi- 
nese, and  states  that  the  dogs  always  discovered  him  under 
any  disguise,  by  the  difference  of  his  bouquet.  I  do  not 
doubt  the  statement.  I  would  undertake  to  distinguish 
between  a  Chinaman,  a  Negro,  an  Indian,  and  a  member 
of  the  Caucasian  race,  in  a  perfectly  dark  room,  by  the 
sense  of  smell  alone.  The  human  blossoms  of  our  planet 
are  not  all  pinks  and  roses ;  we  find  also  the  datura  stramo- 
niuniy  the  toad's-flax,  and  the  skunk-cabbage. 

Our  course  at  first  led  in  a  southeastern  direction,  through 
one  of  the  tributary  valleys  of  the  Calaveras,  with  the  Bear 
Mountains  rising  grandly  on  our  left.  Here  the  drooping, 
elm-like  evergreen  oaks,  which  had  so  charmed  us  in  the 
valley  of  Russian  River,  again  made  their  appearance,  and 
the  landscapes  were  once  more  warm,  idyllic,  and  character- 
ized by  exquisite  harmony  of  color  and  outline.  The  hol- 
lows were  less  frequently  scarred  by  surface-washings  :  the 
plough  only  had  disturbed,  in  order  to  beautify,  the  face  of 
Nature.  On  the  other  hand,  it  was  evidently  a  region  of 
gold-bearing  quartz.  In  the  neighborhood  of  Angel's,  I 
noticed  a  number  of  mills,  many  of  them  running  from 
twenty  to  thirty  stamps.  Some  of  these  mills  are  said  to 
be  doing  a  very  profitable  business.  They  have  effectually 
stripped  the  near  hills  of  theii  fonner  forests,  to  supply  fuel 
for  the  steara-enjxines  and  beds  for  the  sluices  in  which  the 


172  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

gold  is  separated  from  the  crushed  rock.  The  bottoms  of  the 
sluices  are  formed  of  segments  a  foot  thick,  sawed  off  the 
trunks  of  pine-trees  and  laid  side  by  side ;  yet  such  is  the 
wear  and  tear  of  the  particles  of  rock  and  earth,  carried 
over  them  by  the  water,  that  they  must  be  renewed  every 
two  or  three  weeks. 

We  found  Vallecitos  (an  intermediate  place,)  to  be  a  bran- 
new  village  of  about  three  hundred  inhabitants,  having  been 
burned  to  the  ground  a  fortnight  previous.  The  new  houses 
were  of  wood,  stuck  side  by  side,  like  the  old  ones  ;  and  the 
place  will  probably  burn  again,  every  summer.  There  was 
a  French  hotel  and  restaurant,  which  our  conductor  scorned 
— halting  before  the  "Valhalla,''  an  open  saloon,  Avith  lager 
beer  attachment.  A  dinner  of  sour-krout  and  boiled  pork 
smoked  upon  the  table ;  but  the  beer,  which  should  have 
completed  the  three-fold  chord  of  Teutonic  harmony,  was 
decidedly  out  of  tune.  It  mattered  little,  however,  as  but 
five  minutes  were  allowed  us  for  the  meal. 

The  worst  part  of  the  journey  was  still  before  us.  The 
road  wound  for  two  or  three  miles  up  a  shallow  valley, 
walled  on  the  right  by  a  steep,  level  ridge,  which  denoted 
our  approach  to  the  Stanislaus  River.  In  a  dip  of  this 
ridge  is  the  reservoir  of  the  ditch  which  supplies  the  mines 
in  the  neighborhood.  Our  road  led  past  it,  and  over  a  low 
"  divide,''  into  a  glen  thickly  wooded  with  oak  and  pine. 
The  soil  was  very  stony,  and  our  progress  rough  and  pain- 
ful, though  rapid.  In  the  middle  of  this  glen,  where  it 
opened  to  the  sun,  stood  a  neat  farm-house,  with  a  melon- 
I)atch  and  an  orchard  of  luxuriant  fruit-trees.  Two  miles 
beyond,  crossing  a  ridge,  and  emeiging  from  the  thickest 


J 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  1*73 

portion  of  the  forest,  we  found  ourselves  on  the  brink  of 
the  great  chasm  of  the  Stanislaus. 

This  pass,  or  gorge,  is  only  equalled  by  that  of  the  North 
Fork  of  the  American.  The  length  of  the  descent  is  about 
two  miles;  but  advantage  is  taken  of  little  spurs  and  shoul- 
ders of  the  mountain  to  obtain  a  less  difficult  grade.  The 
river  was  invisible,  and  we  could  only  guess  its  distance 
below  us  by  the  perspective  of  the  misty  mountain-wall 
beyond.  The  scenery  was  of  the  most  grand  and  inspiring 
character.  Giant  oaks  and  pines  clung  to  the  almost  pre- 
cipitous steeps ;  clumps  of  manzanita,  covered  with  red 
berries,  fi-inged  the  road,  and  below  iis  yawned  the  gulf, 
full  lighted  by  the  afternoon  sun,  except  to  the  eastward, 
where  its  sides  so  approach  and  overhang  as  to  cast  a  per- 
petual shade. 

I  walked  to  the  bottom,  but  preferred  riding  up  the  oppo- 
site ascent.  The  other  passengers,  who  trudged  on  in  ad- 
vance, found  their  advantage  in  a  rest  of  twenty  minutes 
at  the  summit,  and  the  hospitality  of  a  farmer's  wife,  who 
regaled  them  with  milk  and  hot  biscuits.  Before  fairly 
reaching  the  top,  I  was  surprised  to  see  traces  of  mining 
operations,  on  all  sides.  On  the  left  of  the  road  was  a  deep 
chasm,  resembling  a  tropical  barranca^  which  appeared  to 
have  been  entirely  excavated  by  art.  Beyond  it,  on  a  level 
tract  which  was  left  standing,  like  an  island  between  two 
arms  of  the  chasm,  was  an  orchard  of  splendid  peach-trees 
— the  branches  whei'eof  trailed  upon  the  ground  under  the 
weight  of  their  fruit.  In  the  east  rose  a  mountain-ridge — 
a  secondary  elevation  of  the  Sierra  Nevada ;  for  it  appeared 
to  overlook  all  between  it  and  the  central  line  of  snowy 


174  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

pyramids.  We  entered  a  broad  basin,  inclining  to  the 
south,  and  drained  by  winter  streams,  which  join  the  Stan- 
islaus further  down.  Everywhere  the  soil  was  dug  up,  and 
turned  up,  and  whirled  upside  down. 

Presently,  cottages  and  gardens  offered  a  more  chet'rful 
sight,  and  the  reservoir  which  sujaplies  the  mining  com- 
panies of  Columbia  with  water  lay  spread  out  before  us 
like  a  lake,  reflecting  in  its  bosom  the  houses  and  spires  of 
the  town  beyond.  We  were  surprised  and  delighted  at  the 
extent  and,  evident  stability  of  the  place.  The  population 
cannot  be  less  than  three  thousand.  There  are  solid  blocks 
of  buildings,  streets  of  stores,  a  wide  extent  of  suburban 
cottages  dotting  the  slopes  around,  and  all  the  noise  and 
life  of  a  much  larger  town.  The  airy  verandas,  festooned 
with  flowering  vines,  the  open  windows,  the  semi-tropical 
character  of  the  trees  and  plants,  make  a  very  different 
impression  upon  the  visitor  from  that  produced  by  Nevada 
or  Grass  Valley.  Although  scarcely  a  degree  and  a  half 
apart,  there  are  still  the  distinctive  traits  of  North  and 
South.  In  the  population  you  find  something  of  the  same 
difference — the  Northern  emigrants  taking  to  the  northern 
mines  by  a  natural  instinct,  and  the  Southern  to  the  south- 
ern. 

Columbia  and  Sonora,  towns  of  nearly  equal  size,  are 
only  four  miles  apart — rivals,  of  course.  The  broad  valley 
lying  between  is  probably  the  most  productive  placer  in 
California.  It  has  been  dug  over  a  dozen  times,  and  still 
pays  handsomely.  From  the  perseverance  with  which  every 
])article  of  earth,  dovvn  to  the  bed-rock,  has  been  scrnped 
away  in  many  places,  one  sees  that  the  soil  must  be  every- 


NiCW   PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  175 

where  gold-bearing.  Such  a  scene  of  ravage  I  have  never 
beheld.  Over  thousands  of  square  rods,  the  earth  has  been 
torn  and  burrowed  into,  leaving  immense  pits,  out  of  which 
project  the  crooked  fangs  of  rocks,  laid  bare  to  the  roots 
and  knotted  together  in  unimaginable  confusion.  A  sav- 
age, coming  ui^on  such  a  place,  would  instantly  say :  "  Here 
the  devil  has  been  at  work !"  Our  road,  sometimes,  Avas  a 
narrow  ridge,  left  standing  between  vast  tracts  where  some 
infernal  blast  of  desolation  seemed  to  have  raged.  I  was 
involuntarily  reminded  of  the  words  of  a  hornpipe,  more 
rowdy  than  refined : 

Did  you  ever  see  the  Devil, 
With  his  iron  wooden  shovel, 
Scratchin'  up  the  gravel 
With  his  big  toe-nail  ?" 

Here  was  the  very  place  where  he  must  have  performed 
that  operation.  The  earth  seemed  to  have  been  madly 
clawed  into,  rather  than  dug  out.  I  thought  I  had  already 
seen  some  evidence  of  the  devastation  wrought  upon  Na- 
ture by  gold-mining,  but  this  example  capped  the  climax. 
It  was  truly  horrible.  You  may  laugh,  you  successful  ope- 
rators, who  are  now  fattening  upon  the  gains  drawn  from 
these  incurable  pits  ;  but  still  I  say,  they  are  horrible.  No 
cultivation,  no  labor  will  ever  be  able  to  remove  such  scars 
from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

I  found  Sonora  a  very  lively,  pleasant  place.  Many  intel- 
ligent Southern  gentlemen  are  among  the  inhabitants,  and, 
though  there  is  scarcely  a  greater  amount  of  fixed  society 
than  elsewhere,  what  there  is  of  it  is  genial  and  attractive. 
The  mining  operations  are  carried  on,  not  only  around  the 


176  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

town,  but  in  it  and  under  it.  The  principal  street  is  com- 
pletely undermined  in  places,  and  I  even  saw  a  store  which 
was  temporarily  closed,  in  order  that  the  cellar  might  be 
dug  out.  The  Placer  House  had  b6en  burrowed  under 
within  the  j)ast  year,  and  a  large  quantity  of  gold  extracted- 
Some  of  the  inhabitants  seemed  to  think  that  the  whole  town 
would  be  gradually  removed,  until  all  the  houses  rest  on  the 
bed-rock,  below  which  there  is  nothing. 

If  a  vein  of  gold  could  be  found  extending  straight 
through  the  Sierra  Nevada,  there  would  soon  be  a  tunnel, 
without  cost,  for  the  Pacific  Railroad ! 


9. — The  Big  Tkees  op  Calaveras. 

At  Vallecitos  (where  we  had  dined  the  previous  day,  in 
the  Valhalla  of  the  Teutonic  gods),  we  were  but  twenty 
miles  from  the  grove  of  Giant  Trees,  in  Calaveras  county. 
This  grove  was  one  of  the  things  which  I  had  determined 
to  see,  before  setting  out  for  California.  I  have  a  passion 
for  trees,  second  only  to  that  for  beautiful  human  beings, 
and. sculpture.  I  rank  arboriculture  as  one  of  the  fine  arts. 
I  have  studied  it  in  all  its  various  schools — the  palms  of 
Africa,  the  cypresses  of  Mexico,  the  banyans  and  peepuls 
of  India,  the  birches  of  Sweden,  and  the  elms  of  New  Eng- 
land. In  my  mind  there  is  a  gallery  of  master-pieces,  wliich 
I  should  not  be  afraid  to  place  beside  those  of  the  Vatican 
and  the  Louvre.  Types  of  beauty  and  grace  I  had  already 
— the  Apollo,  the  Antinous,  the  Faun,  even  the  Gladiator — 
but  here  were  the  Ileraclidae,  the  Titans  ! 


NEW  PICTURES   FROM   CALIFORNIA.  177 

Besides,  on  the  American  Continent,  trees  are  onr  truest 
antiquities,  retaining  (as  I  shall  show)  the  hieroglyphics, 
not  only  of  Nature,  but  of  Man,  during  the  past  ages.  The 
shadows  of  two  thousand  years  sleep  under  the  boughs  of 
Montezuma's  cypresses,  at  Chapultepec :  the  great  tree  of 
Oaxaca  is  a  cotemporary  of  Solomon,  and  even  the  sculp- 
tured ruins  of  Copan,  Palenque,  and  Uxnial  are  outnum- 
bered in  years  by  the  rings  of  trunks  in  the  forests  which 
hide  them.  In  California,  the  only  human  relics  of  an  ear- 
lier date  than  her  present  Indian  tribes,  are  those  of  a  race 
anterior  to  the  Deluge ;  but  those  giants  of  the  Sierra 
Nevada  have  kept,  for  forty  centuries,  the  annual  record 
of  their  growth.  As  well  think  of  going  to  Egypt  without 
seeing  the  Pyramids,  as  of  visiting  California,  without 
making  a  pilgrimage  to  her  immemorial  Trees  ! 

I  procured  a  two-horse  team,  with  driver,  in  Souora, 

regardless  of  expense.    Mr.  E ,  whose  labors  were  now 

drawing  to  a  close,  also  accompanied  us.  We  had  but  two 
days  for  the  trip — in  all,'  sixty  miles  of  very  rough  moun- 
tain-road— and  therefore  started  with  the  first  peep  of 
dawn.  As  far  as  Vallecitos,  our  road  was  that  which  we 
had  traversed  in  coming  from  San  Andreas,  crossing  the 
great  chasm  of  the  Stanislaus.  The  driver,  however,  took 
another  route  to  Columbia,  leading  through  a  still  more 
terribly  torn  and  gashed  region,  and  approaching  the  town 
from  the  eastern  side.  Here  were  huge  artificial  chasms, 
over  which  the  place  seemed  to  hang,  like  Fribourg  over 
its  valley.  The  multitude  of  flumes,  raised  on  lofty  tressle- 
work,  which  crossed  these  gulfs — the  large  water-wheels — 
the  zigzag  sluices  below,  and  the  cart-roads  running  on  nar- 

8* 


178  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

row  planes  of  different  elevation  into  the  various  branches 
of  the  mines,  with  distorted  masses  of  primitive  rock  stick- 
ing up  here  and  there,  formed,  altogether,  a  picture  so  vast 
and  grotesque  as  to  make  us  pause  in  astonishment.  I 
remember  nothing  like  it  in  any  other  part  of  the  world. 

We  breakfasted  at  the  Broadway  Hotel,  and  then  hast- 
ened on,  in  order  to  reach  Murphy's  by  noon.  The  gulf  of 
the  Stanislaus  was  crossed  ^^dthout  accident,  as  it  was  rather 
too  early  for  any  other  teams  to  be  abroad  on  the  road. 
The  possibility  of  meeting  another  vehicle  is  the  one  great 
risk  which  haunts  you,  during  such  transits.  Near  Val- 
lecitos,  while  crossing  one  of  the  primitive  bridges,  our 
"  off"  horse  got  his  leg  into  a  hole,  injuring  it  rather 
severely,  though  not  so  as  to  prevent  his  going  on.  The 
miners  carry  their  ditches  and  sluices  aci'oss  a  road  just  as 
they  please ;  and  in  order  to  save  a  few  planks,  bridge  them 
with  rough  logs  and  the  branches  of  trees,  interspersed 
with  irregular  boulders,  to  hold  them.  "  When  a  stick  is 
too  crooked  for  anything  else,  they  make  a  bridge  of  it," 
gj'owled  the  driver,  who  threatened  to  tear  up  a  fence  or  a 
flume,  and  would  have  done  so,  had  not  the  bridge  been 
mended  on  our  return. 

At  Vallecitos,  we  left  the  road  to  San  Andi-eas,  and  took 
a  trail  leading  eastward  to  Murphy's,  an  old  mining-camp, 
four  or  five  miles  distant.  We  passed  though  a  succession 
of  shallow  valleys,  which  in  spring  must  be  lovely,  with  their 
scattered  trees,  their  flowery  meadows,  and  the  green  of 
their  softly-rounded  hills.  They  were  now  too  brown  and 
dry — not  golden  with  wild  oats,  like  the  Coast  Mountains, 
but  showing  the  dull  hue  of  the  naked  soil.    In  one  of  the 


NEW   PICTURES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  119 

broadest  of  these  valleys  lay  Murphy's — a  flourishing  vil- 
lage until  ten  days  previous,  when  it  was  swept  away  by 
fire.  This  was  the  fourth  mining  town  destroyed  during 
our  visit !  The  cottage  residences,  standing  alone  in  the 
midst  of  their  gardens,  escaped  ;  but  the  business  portion 
of  the  place,  including  the  hotel,  was  utterly  consumed. 

The  proprietors  of  the  hotel,  the  Messrs.  Perry,  are  also 
the  owners  of  the  Big  Trees.  They  enjoy  a  wide  repu- 
tation for  their  enterprise,  and  the  good  fare  wherewith 
they  regale  the  travellei'.  They  had  already  erected  a 
slianty  among  the  ruins,  and  promised  us  dinner  while  the 
horses  were  feeding.  My  wife  was  kindly  received  by 
Mrs.  Perry,  and  I  was  overwhelmed  with  cordial  invitations 
to  stop  and  entertain  the  Murphyites — which,  to  my  regret, 
was  impossible.  We  had,  in  fact,  a  miraculous  dinner — 
everything  was  good  of  its  kind,  and  admirably  cooked. 
What  more  can  be  said  ?  The  claret  was  supreme,  and  the 
pears  which  we  purchased  for  dessert  dissolved  in  inexpres- 
sible fragrance  upon  the  tongue.  The  farmer  from  whom 
we  procured  them  presented  me  with  a  watermelon,  Mr. 
P.  atlded  some  fresh  meat  for  our  supper  at  the  forest  hotel, 
and  we  went  our  way  rejoicing. 

In  the  outskirts  of  the  village  were  encamped  companies 
of  newly-arrived  emigrants,  among  their  shattered  wagons 
and  their  weary  cattle,  and  we  met  numbers  of  others  on 
the  way.  From  Luther's  Pass  at  the  head  of  Carson  Val- 
ley, a  trail  turns  southward,  crosses  the  Sierra,  and  passing 
down  the  ridge  above  Silver  Valley  to  the  Big  Trees,  forms 
the  most  direct  road  from  Carson  River  to  the  Southern 
nunes.     These  emigrants  were  now  at  the  end  of  their  toil 


180  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

and  sufferings ;  but,  instead  of  appearing  rejoiced  at  the 
deliverance,  their  faces  wore  a  hard  and  stern  expression, 
with  something  of  Indian  shyness.  The  women,  as  if  con- 
scious that  their  sun-browned  faces  and  their  uncombed 
hair  were  not  particularly  beautiful,  generally  turned  their 
heads  away  as  we  passed.  Dirty,  dilapidated,  and  frowsy 
as  many  of  them  were,  they  all  wore  hooj)S !  Yes,  even 
seated  in  the  wagons,  on  the  way,  their  dusty  calicoes  were 
projected  out  over  the  whiffle-trees  by  the  battered  and 
angular  rims  of  what  had  once  been  circles !  It  was  an  exhi- 
bition of  sacrifice  to  fashion,  too  melancholy  for  laughter. 

The  valley  of  Murphy's  is  2,000  feet  above  the  sea,  and 
lies  at  the  foot  of  those  long  lateral  ridges  which  connect 
the  broken  ranges  called  the  Foot-Hills  with  the  central 
ridge  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  The  distance  to  the  Big  Trees 
is  fifteen  miles,  with  an  additional  ascent  of  2,500  feet. 
Immediately  on  leaving  the  village,  we  entered  a  close, 
wooded  canon,  down  the  bottom  of  which  rushed  the  water 
of  a  canal,  as  if  in  its  natural  bed.  It  was  delightful  to 
drive  in  the  shade  of  the  oaks  and  pines,  with  the  clear 
waters  of  a  roaring  brook  below  us — clear  water  being  the 
rarest  sight  in  these  mountains.  Gaining  the  summit  of 
the  ridge,  we  drove  for  miles  over  an  undulating,  but 
rapidly-ascending  road,  deep  in  dust  and  cut  into  disagree- 
able ruts  by  the  wheels  of  emigrant  wagons.  Huge  shafts 
of  fir,  arbor-vitae,  and  sugar-pine,  arose  on  all  sides,  and  the 
further  we  advanced  the  grander  and  more  dense  became 
the  forest.  Whenever  we  obtained  an  outlook,  it  revealed 
to  us  hills  similarly  covered :  only  now  and  then,  in  the 
hollows,  were  some  intervals  of  open  meadow.     The  ditch, 


NEW   PICTURES   T?EOM    CALIFOKNIA.  181 

coming  from  far  up  in  the  mountains,  still  kept  beside  us, 
sometimes  carved  in  the  steep  side  of  the  hill,  and  some- 
times carried  across  a  valley  on  a  wooden  framework  a 
Imndred  feet  high. 

The  air  perceptibly  increased  in  coolness,  clearness,  and 
delicious  purity.  The  trees  now  rose  like  colossal  pillars, 
from  four  to  eight  feet  in  diameter,  and  two  hundred  feet 
in  height,  without  a  crook  or  a  flaw  of  any  kind.  There 
was  no  undergrowth,  but  the  dry  soil  was  hidden  under  a 
bed  of  short,  golden  fern,  which  blazed  like  fire  where  the 
sunshine  struck  it.  We  seemed  to  be  ti'aversing  some  vast 
columned  hall,  like  that  of  Karnak,  or  the  Thousand 
Columns  of  Constantinople — except  that  human  art  never 
raised  such  matchless  pillars.  Our  necks  ached  from  the 
vertical  travels  of  our  eyes,  in  order  to  reach  their  tops. 
Really,  the  V.^estern  hyperbole  of  tall  trees  seemed  true, 
that  it  takes  two  men  to  see  them — one  beginning  where 
the  other  le,aves  off. 

Our  progress,  from  the  ascent,  and  the  deep  dust  which 
concealed  the  ruts,  was  slow,  and  would  have  been  tedious, 
but  for  the  inspiring  majesty  of  the  forest.  But  when  four 
hours  had  passed,  and  the  sun  was  near  his  setting,  we 
began  to  look  out  impatiently  for  some  sign  of  the  Trees. 
The  pines  and  arbor-vitae  had  become  so  large,  that  it 
seemed  as  if  nothing  could  be  larger.  As  some  great  red 
shaft  loomed  duskily  through  the  shadows,  one  and  then 
another  of  us  would  exclaim  :  "  There's  one  !" — only  to 
convince  ourselves,  as  we  came  nearer,  that  it  was  not. 
Yet,  if  such  were  the  courtiers,  what  must  the  monarchs 
be  ?      We  shall  certainly    be  disappointed  :  nothing  can 


182  AT   HOME    AND    ABEOAD. 

fulfil  this  promise.  A  thick  underwood  now  appeared, 
radiant  with  the  loveliest  autumnal  tints.  The  sprays 
of  pink,  purple,  crimson,  and  pure  gold  flashed  like 
s^jrinkles  of  colored  fire  amid  the  dark-green  shadows. 
"  Let  us  not  ask  for  more,"  said  I  j  "  nothing  can  be  more 
beautiful.'' 

Suddenly,  in  front  of  us,  where  the  gloom  was  deepest, 
I  saw  a  huge  something  behind  the  other  trees,  like  the 
magnified  shadow  of  one  of  them,  thrown  upon  a  dark-red 
cloud.  While  I  was  straining  my  eyes,  in  questioning 
wonder,  the  road  made  a  sharp  curve.  Glancing  forward, 
I  beheld  two  great  circular — shot-towers  ?  Not  trees^ 
surely ! — but  yes,  by  all  the  Dryads,  those  are  trees !  Ay, 
open  your  mouth,  my  good  driver,  as  if  your  two  eyes 
were  not  sufiicient,  while  we  sit  dumb  behind  you  !  What 
can  one  say  ?  What  think,  except  to  doubt  his  senses  ? 
One  sentence,  only,  comes  to  your  mind — "  there  were 
giants  in  those  days." 

Between  these  two  colossi,  called  The  Sentinels,  ran  our 
road.  In  front,  a  hundred  yards  further,  stood  the  plea- 
sant white  hotel,  beside  something  dark,  of  nearly  the 
same  size.  This  something  is  only  a  piece  of  the  trunk  of 
another  tree,  which  has  been  felled,  leaving  its  stump  as  the 
floor  of  a  circular  ball-room,  twenty-seven  feet  in  diameter. 
Dismounting  at  the  door,  we  were  kindly  received  by  the 
Doctor,  and  assured  of  good  quarters  for  the  night.  The 
sun  was  just  setting,  and  we  were  advised  to  defer  the 
inspection  of  the  grove  until  morning.  Seating  oui'selves 
in  the  veranda,  therefore,  we  proceeded  to  study  The 
Sentinels,  whose  tops,  three  hundred  feet  in  the  air,  were 


NEW    PICTUKES   FROM    CALIFORNIA.  183 

glowing  in  golden  lustre,  while  the  last  beam  had  passed 
avvay  from  the  forest  below  them. 

To  my  astonishment,  they  did  not  appear  so  very  large, 
after  all !  Large  they  were,  certainly,  but  nothing  remark- 
able. At  first,  I  was  puzzled  by  this  phenomenon,  but  pre- 
sently remembered  that  the  slender  saplings  (apparently) 
behind  them,  were  in  themselves  enormous  trees.  In 
dwai'fing  everything  around  them,  they  had  also  dwarfed 
themselves.  Like  St.  Peter's,  the  Pyramids,  and  every- 
thing else  which  is  at  once  colossal  and  symmetrical,  the 
eye  requires  time  to  comprehend  their  dimensions.  By 
repeatedly  walking  to  them,  pacing  round  their  tremendous 
bases,  ejcamining  the  neighboring  trees,  and  measuring 
their  height  by  the  same  comparison,  I  succeeded  in  gradu- 
ally increasing  the  impression.  When  the  last  gleam  of 
twilight  had  gone,  and  the  full  moon  mounted  above  the 
forest,  they  grew  in  grandeur  and  awful  height,  until  the 
stars  seemed  to  twinkle  as  dew-drops  on  their  topmost 
boughs.  Then,  indeed,  they  became  older  than  the  Pyra- 
mids, more  venerable  than  the  triune  idol  of  Elejjhanta, 
and  the  secrets  of  an  irrecoverable  Past  were  breathed  in 
the  dull  murmurs  forced  from  them  by  the  winds  of  night. 

"  Thank  God  that  I  have  lived  to  see  these  works  of  His 
hand!"  was  the  exclamation  with  which  I  turned  away, 
reluctantly  driven  in-doors  by  the  keen,  frosty  air.  Before 
a  cheerful  fire  the  doctor  related  to  us  the  history  of  the 
discovery  of  the  grove.  When  I  was  on  the  Mokelumne, 
in  1849,  its  existence  was  unknown.  At  the  close  of  that 
year,  some  miners,  prospecting  high  up  in  the  mountains, 
are  reported  to  have  come  upon  some  of  the  trees,  and  to 


184  AT    HOME    AND    ABEOAD, 

have  been  laughed  at,  and  called  hard  names  by  their 
friends,  on  account  of  their  incredible  stori(!S.  In  the 
spring  of  1850,  however,  a  company  on  a  tour  of  prospect- 
ing, hunting,  and  general  speculation,  happened  to  encamp 
in  a  valley  about  four  miles  distant.  One  of  the  men, 
jmshing  up  the  ridge,  alone,  found  himself  at  last  in  the 
midst  of  the  monstrous  grove.  He  Avas  at  first  frightened 
(I  can  well  imagine  it),  then  doubtful,  then  certain.  Re- 
turning to  the  camp,  he  said  nothing  about  the  trees, 
knowing  that  he  would  only  be  called  a  liar,  but  informed 
the  leader  of  the  party  that  he  had  found  signs  of  gold,  or 
of  deer,  higher  up,  and  offered  to  guide  them.  By  this 
device  he  brought  them  all  to  the  grove — and  the  stoiy  of 
the  Big  Trees  soon  afterward  astonished  the  world. 

But  with  discovery  came  also  ruin.  After  the  first 
astonishment  was  over,  came  the  suggestion  of  a  speculative 
mind — "  Can't  some  money  be  made  out  of  this  here 
thing?"  A  plan  was  soon  formed.  One  of  the  biggest 
trees  must  be  cut  down,  barked,  and  the  pieces  of  bark 
numbered,  so  that  when  put  together  again  in  the  same 
order,  they  would,  externally,  exactly  represent  the 
original  tree.  Take  them  to  New  York,  London,  Paris — 
and  your  fortune  is  made.  Plow  to  get  the  tree  down  ? 
■was  the  next  question.  A  mass  of  solid  wood,  ninety  feet 
in  circumference,  was  clearly  beyond  the  powers  of  the 
axe.  Where  was  the  saw,  or  the  arms  to  wield  it,  which 
could  do  the  work  ?  But  the  prospect  of  money  sharpens 
the  wits,  and  this  difficulty  was  finally  overcome.  Pump- 
augers  were  the  thing !  By  piercing  the  trunk  with  a 
grcjit  number  of  horizontal  bores,  side  by  side,  it  might 


NEW  PICrUEES   FKOM   CALIFORNIA.  185 

finally  be  cut  asunder.  Augers  were  therefore  procured, 
and  two  sets  of  hands  went  to  work. 

After  a  steady  labor  of  six  weeks,  the  thing  was  done — 
but  the  tree  stood  unmoved  !  So  straight  and  symmetri- 
cal was  its  growth,  so  immense  its  weight,  and  so  broad 
its  base,  that  it  seemed  unconscious  of  its  own  annihilation, 
tossing  its  outer  branches  derisively  against  the  mountain 
winds  that  strove  to  overthrow  it.  A  neighboring  pine,  of 
giant  size,  was  then  selected,  and  felled  in  such  a  way  as 
to  fall  with  full  force  against  it.  The  top  shook  a  little, 
but  the  shaft  stood  as  before !  Finally  the  spoilei's  suc- 
ceeded in  driving  thin  wedges  into  the  cut.  Gradually, 
and  with  great  laboi-,  one  side  of  the  tree  was  lifted  :  the 
line  of  equilibrium  was  driven  nearer  and  nearer  to  the 
edge  of  the  base  :  the  mighty  mass  poised  for  a  moment, 
and  then,  with  a  great  rushing  sigh  in  all  its  boughs, 
thundered  down.  The  forest  was  ground  to  dust  beneath 
it,  and  for  a  mile  around,  the  earth  shook  with  the  concus- 
sion. 

Yet,  perhaps,  it  is  as  well  that  one  tree  should  be  felled. 
The  prostrate  trunk  illustrates  the  age  and  bulk  of  these 
giants  better  than  those  which  stand.  We  learn  from  it 
that  the  wood  was  sound  and  solid  throughout ;  that  the 
age  of  the  tree  was  thirty-one  hundred  years;  that  it 
contained  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  feet  of  timber; 
and  that,  a  thousand  years  ago,  the  Indians  built  their  fires 
against  its  trunk,  as  they  do  now.  The  stump,  as  I  said 
before,  is^the  floor  of  a  ball-room  :  higher  up  (or,  rather, 
further  ofi"),  is  a  bowling-alley.  The  pine  trees,  forming 
the  forest  around  the  house,  though  apparently  so  small, 


186  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

average  six  feet  in  diameter,  and  over  two  hundred  in 
height. 

Our  quarters  at  the  little  hotel  were  all  that  could  be 
desired.  Pure,  ice-cold  water,  venison,  delicious  bread  and 
butter,  and  clean  beds,  all  combined  to  make  us  regret 
that  our  stay  was  so  limited.  At  daybreak  the  Doctor 
summoned  us,  and  we  prejjared  for  a  stroU  through  the 
grove  before  sunrise.  The  great  Trees,  to  the  number  of 
ninety,  are  scattered  through  the  pine-forest,  covering  a 
space  about  half  a  mile  in  length.  A  winding  trail, 
ascending  one  side  of  the  glen,  and  descending  on  the 
other,  conducts  to  the  principal  trunks.  They  have  all 
received  names,  more  or  less  appropriate.  Near  the  house 
is  the  "  Beauty  of  the  Forest,"  really  a  paragon  of  colossal 
elegance,  though  comparatively  young.  Her  age  is  pro- 
bably not  more  than  two  thousand  years. 

How  cool,  and  silent,  and  balmy  was  the  stupendous 
forest,  in  the  early  morn !  Through  the  open  spaces  we  could 
see  a  few  rosy  bars  of  vapor  fe,r  aloft,  tinted  by  the  coming 
sun,  while  the  crimson  and  golden  sprays  of  the  undergrowth 
shone  around- us,  like  "morning  upbreaking  through  the 
earth  !"  The  dark-red  shafts  soared  aloft  rather  like  the 
great,  circular  watch-towers  of  the  Middle  Ages,  than  any 
result  of  vegetable  growth.  We  wandered  from  tree  to 
tree,  overwhelmed  with  their  bulk,  for  each  one  seemed  more 
liuge  than  the  last.  Our  eyes  could  now  comprehend  their 
proportions.  Even  the  driver,  who  at  first  said,  " They'ie 
not  so — condemned  big,  after  all!"  now  walked  along 
silently,  occasionally  pacing  around  a  trunk,  or  putting  his 
band  upon  it,  as  if  only  such  tangible  proof  could  satisfy  him 


NEW   PICTUEES   FROM   CALIFOKNIA.  187 

We  first  visited  the  "  Three  Graces,''  then  the  "  Miner's 
Cabin"  and   "Uncle  Tom's   Cabin."     The   two  last   are 
hollowed  out  at  the  bottom  by  Indian  fires,  which   have 
burned   themselves   central   chimneys   far   up   the   trunk. 
Either  of  them  would  give  shelter  to  a  family  of  moderate 
size.    The  next  group  bore  the  traces  of  fools.     Some  love- 
sick blockhead,  visiting  the  grove  in  company  with  three 
ladies,  one  of  whom  looked  coldly  upon  his  suit,  another 
sang,  and  another  did  something  else,  has  fastened  upon  three 
of  the  trees  marble  tablets,  inscribed  severally,  in  letters 
of  gold,  "The  Marble  Heart  (!)"  "The  Nightingale,"  and 
"  The  Salem  Witch."     I  said  to  the  Doctor :  "  Have  you 
a  ladder  and  a  hammer  about  the  house  ?"     "  Yes — why  ?" 
"  Because  if  I  were  to  remain  here  to-night,  you  would 
find  those  things  smashed  to-morrow  morning."     His  fur- 
tive smile  assured  me  that  the  search  for  the  trespasser 
would  not  be  very  strict.     Miss  Avonia  Jones,  an  actress, 
who  was  there  a  short  time  previous,  bestowed  her  own 
name  upon  a  tree,  and  likewise  had  a  marble  tablet  pre- 
pared,   regardless  of   expense.     Fortunately    the    tablet 
happened  to  reach  Murphy's,  on  its  way  to  the  grove,  just 
before  the  fire,  and  was  destroyed.    Fancy  one  of  those 
grand  and  awful  trees  bearing  the  name  of  "  Avonia  Jones !" 
Even  Senator  Gwin,  as  I  was  informed,  had  his  name  cast 
on  an  iron  plate,  and  sent  to  the  Mariposa  Grove,  to  be 
placed  on  one  of  the  largest  trees.     Oh  !  the  pitiful  vanity 
of  our  race ! 

At  the  top  of  the  glen  stands  the  "Mother  of  the 
Forest,"  ninety-three  feet  in  circumference,  and  three  hun- 
dred and  twenty-five  feet  high.     Her  bark,  which  has  been 


188  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

stripped  off  to  a  height  of  one  hundred  and  ten  feet, 
now  represents  lier  in  the  Crystal  Palace  at  Sydenham. 
This  was  wanton  wickedness.  She  now  stands  blasted, 
stretching  her  bare,  reproaching  arms  high  over  the  forest. 
She  forms  part  of  what  is  called  the  "Family  Group," 
numbering  twenty-four  trees.  Here  we  commenced  the 
return  trail,  and  soon  came  upon  the  "  Father  of  the 
Forest,"  which  surpasses  everything  else  by  his  tremendous 
bulk.  He  lies  upon  the  earth,  as  he  fell,  centuries  ago. 
His  trunk  is  one  hundred  and  ten  feet  in  circumference  at 
the  base,  and  his  original  height  is  estimated  to  have  been 
four  hundred  and  fifty  feet !  In  contemplating  him,  one 
almost  refuses  to  credit  the  evidence  of  one's  senses.  By 
counting  a  few  of  the  rings,  and  making  a  rough  estimate, 
I  satisfied  myself  that  his  age  could  not  have  been  less  than 
five  thousand  years  !  The  interior  of  the  trunk  is  burned 
out,  forming  a  lofty,  arched  passage,  through  which  you 
walk  for  one  hundred  and  eiglity  feet,  and  then  emerge 
from  a  knot-hole !  Not  far  off  is  another  jirostrate  trunk, 
through  which  a  man  may  ride  on  horseback  for  more  than 
a  hundred  feet. 

There  are  a  variety  of  trees  named  after  various  States ; 
also  the  "Old  Maid"  and  "Old  Bachelor,''  two  lonely, 
leaning,  dilapidated  figures,  and  "Pike,"  a  tall,  gaunt 
trunk,  not  so  inappropriately  named.  The  largest  of  all 
the  living  trees  is  called  "  Hercules,"  and  is,  if  I  mistake 
not,  ninety-seven  feet  in  circumference.  I  suggested  that 
his  name  should  j)i'operly  be  changed  to  "  The  Patriarch." 
Young  trees,  sprung  from  the  seeds,  are  seen  here  and 
there,  but  the  soil  seems  insufficient  to  nourish  many  of 


NEW   PICTDBES   FKOM   CALIFORNIA..  189 

them,  until  the  older  race  passes  away.  The  Doctor  called 
my  attention  to  a  new  and  curious  fact.  In  the  earth, 
completely  covered  by  the  gradual  deposits  of  centuries 
of  falling  leaves,  are  the  trunks  of  the  progenitors  of  these 
giants.  The  wood  is  almost  black,  and  has  a  dry,  metallic 
sound.  In  one  place  a  living  tree,  between  two  and  three 
thousand  years  old,  is  found  to  be  planted  astride  of 
another  trunk,  entirely  hidden  in  the  soil !  It  is  evident 
that  eight,  or  perhaps  ten,  thousand  years  have  elapsed 
since  this  race  of  trees  first  appeared  on  the  earth.  One 
is  bewildered  by  the  reflections  which  such  a  discovery 
suggests. 

During  our  walk,  we  watched  the  golden  radiance  of 
the  sun,  as,  first  smiting  the  peaks  of  the  scattered  giants, 
it  slowly  descended,  blazing  over  a  hundred  feet  of  their 
massive  foliage,  before  the  tops  of  the  enormous  pines 
were  touched.  This  illumination  first  gave  us  a  true  com- 
prehension of  their  altitude.  While  sketching  The  Senti- 
nel afterwards,  from  the  veranda,  the  laws  of  perspective 
furnished  a  new  revelation.  The  hostess  and  my  wife, 
standing  together  at  the  base  of  a  tree,  became  the  veriest 
dwarfs.  Beyond  them  was  what  appeared  to  be  a  child's 
toy-cart — in  reality  the  wagon  of  an  emigrant  family, 
which  had  arrived  the  evening  before !  Some  of  the 
young  "Pikes,"  expert  wdth  their  rifles,  brought  down  a 
few  cone-bearing  twigs,  two  of  which  the  Doctor  presented 
to  me,  together  with  a  large  stick  of  timber,  and  a  piece 
of  bark,  four  inches  thick,  of  a  golden-brown  color,  and 
with  the  softness  and  lustre  of  velvet. 

Botanists  have  now  decided  that  these  trees  are  akin  to 


190  AT   HOME    AXD   ABROAD. 

the  California  redwood,  Sequoia  sempervirens,  and  they 
will  henceforth  be  known  as  the  Sequoia  gigaoitea,  thereby 
settling  the  national  quarrel  as  to  whether  they  shall  be 
called  Washingtonia  or  Wellingtonia.  It  is  singular 
that  this  discovery  should  not  have  been  sooner  made :  a 
single  glance  at  the  cone  is  enough.  It  is  very  small,  not 
one-fourth  the  size  of  a  man's  fist,  containing  a  few  thin, 
laminar  seeds,  something  like  those  of  a  parsnip.  As  the 
tree  will  bear  a  degree  of  cold  equal  to  zero,  it  may  be 
successfully  grown  in  the  latitude  of  Washington.  The 
growth  is  slow  at  first — so  the  gardeners  in  Sacramento 
and  San  Francisco  inform  me — ^but  increases  rapidly  as  the 
tree  gains  root. 

Since  the  discovery  of  this  grove,  three  others  have  been 
found,  showing  that  the  tree  is  not  phenomenal  in  its 
appearance.  One  of  these  groves,  near  the  head-waters 
of  the  Tuolomne,  lies  at  an  altitude  of  six  thousand  feet, 
and  contains  about  four  hundred  trees,  but  few  of  which 
are  thirty  feet  in  diameter.  The  Mariposa  Trees,  on  the 
road  to  the  Yo-semite  Valley,  number  about  three  hun- 
dred, one  of  which  is  said  to  be  one  hundred  and  two  feet 
in  circumference.  Visitors  are  divided  in  opinion  as  to 
which  grove  is  grandest  and  most  impressive  in  its  charac- 
ter. But  he  who  would  not  be  satisfied  with  the  Calaveras 
Trees  is  capable  of  preferring  his  own  nondescript  cottage 
to  the  Parthenon,  and  his  own  crooked  legs  to  those  of 
the  Apollo  Belvidere. 

Taking  a  last  look  at  these  immemorial  giants  of  the 
forest,  as  they  stretched  their  tufted  boughs  silently  in  the 
sunshine,  over  the  heads  of  the  vassal  trees,   we   drove 


NEW  PICTURES   FROM   CALIPOKKIA.  191 

down  the  mountain  through  the  aisles  of  pine,  and  between 
the  gem-like  sprays  of  the  thickets.  In  four  hours  we 
reached  Murphy's,  dined  again  luxuriously,  and  then  sped 
away  for  Columbia,  where  my  evening's  work  awaited  me. 
It  seems  almost  miraculous  that  we  should  cross  the  great 
chasm  of  the  Stanislaus  for  the  third  time,  without  meet- 
ing another  team. 


10. — California,  as  a  Home. 

At  last  we  packed  for  a  final  departure  from  the  moun- 
tains. The  trip  to  Stockton,  a  distance  of  about  fifty-five 
miles,  was  to  be  accomplished  in  a  single  day.  At  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning  we  took  our  seats  in  the  stage,  and 
after  picking  up  a  sufiicient  number  of  passengers  to  fill  the 
huge,  swinging  vehicle,  emerged  from  Sonora  by  the  lower 
entrance  of  the  valley.  The  morning  was  chUl,  the  road 
rough,  and  our  ride  remarkably  tedious.  After  we  had 
made  ten  or  twelve  miles,  the  sun  rose,  we  breakfasted, 
and  the  scenery  improved.  There  were  three  or  four  vil- 
lages on  the  road,  which  had  an  air  of  permanence  and 
prosperity,  but  the  valleys  were  too  narrow  and  too  entirely 
given  over  to  gold-mining  to  allow  of  farming  to  any  great 
extent.  The  road  was,  at  the  same  time,  stony  and  dusty, 
and  we  were  heartily  glad  when  the  settlement  at  Knight's 
Ferry,  on  the  Stanislaus,  announced  our  exit  from  the 
mountain  region. 

Knight's  Ferry  is  a  smart,  busy  place  of  near  a  thousand 
inhabitants.  The  broad  bar  which  the  river  here  makes  is 
quarried  up,  and  trenched  in  all  directions  by  the  indefati- 


192  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

gable  gold-miners.  There  is  a  large  hotel,  the  chief  energy 
of  which  appears  to  be  expended  on  a  spacious  bar-room, 
Avell  supplied  with  ice  and  liquors.  We  here  changed 
stages,  having  the  satisfaction  of  knowing  that  only  thirty 
miles,  for  the  most  part  of  level  road,  separated  us  from 
Stockton.  A  few  more  long,  sweeping  undulations — the 
last  subsiding  waves  of  the  Sierra  Nevada — and  we  entered 
the  great  j^lain  of  the  San  Joaquin.  We  lost,  it  is  true,  the 
pure  mountain  air,  the  blue  chasms,  the  splendid  pines,  but 
we  had  no  longer  the  dread  of  meeting  vehicles,  the  danger 
of  overturns,  tlie  jolts  and  the  di'y  quagmires  of  dust. 
Merrily  our  coach  rolled  along  over  the  level  floor,  between 
the  high  redwood  fences,  past  occasional  groves  of  live-oak, 
farm-houses,  dusty  orchards,  wind-mills,  turning  in  hot 
puffs  of  southern  wind,  and  stacks  of  shining  straw  or 
snowy  bags  of  grain.  Ten  rapid  minutes,  only,  were 
allowed  us  for  dinnei-,  and  by  two  o'clock  we  saw  the 
spires  of  Stockton  over  the  groves  of  scattering  oaks  which 
surround  the  town. 

Broad,  cheerful,  watered  streets,  suburban  gardens,  neat 
churches,  and  a  glimpse  of  shipping  in  the  tide-water  slough, 
gave  us  a  pleasant  initial  impression  of  the  place,  which  was 
not  diniinished  by  the  clean,  comfortable  quarters  we 
found  at  the  Weber  House.  How  delicious  it  was  to  sit 
in  the  open  French  windows,  watching  the  golden  afternoon 
light  deepen  into  sunset  color  on  the  blue  water,  the  groves 
of  oak,  the  church-spires,  and  the  dim  mountain-ranges  far 
away,  knowing  that  our  month  of  rude  mountain-travel 
was  over!  Repose  is  always  sweet,  but  never  more  so 
than  after  prolonged  fatigue. 


NEW    PICTURES    FKOM    CALIFORNIA,  193 

We  were  greatly  delighted  with  our  visit  to  the  resi- 
dence of  Mr.  Weber,  the  original  proprietor  of  Stockton, 
who  has  transferred  a  tongue  of  land,  between  two  arms 
of  the  slough,  into  a  garden,  and  built  himself  a  spacious 
house  in  the  centre.  There  is  no  more  delightful  villa  on 
Bellosguardo  or  the  slopes  of  F'iesole.  A  thick  hedge,  out- 
side of  which  is  a  double  row  of  semi-tropical  trees,  sur- 
rounds the  peninsula.  The  gate  opens  into  a  lofty  avenue 
of  trellis-work,  where  the  sunshine  strikes  through  pulpy 
bunches  of  amethyst  and  chrysolite,  while,  on  either  hand, 
beds  of  royal  roses  of  every  hue  (except  the  impossible 
blue)  fill  the  air  with  ripe  odor.  The  house  is  low,  but 
spacious,  with  wood-work  of  the  native  redwood,  scarcely 
less  beautiful  than  mahogany.  Vine-covered  verandas  sur- 
round it  and  keep  off  the  sun,  and  every  window  discloses 
a  vision  of  plants  which  would  be  the  glory  of  any  green- 
house on  the  Atlantic  side. 

In  Mrs.  Weber,  I  found  an  old  acquaintance  of  my 
former  visit.  Well  I  remembered  the  day  when,  hot,  hun- 
gry, and  foot-sore,  I  limped  up  to  the  door  of  her  father's 
ranche,  in  the  valley  of  San  Jose,  and  found  her  reading  a 
poem  of  mine  (no  author  ever  had  a  more  welcome  intro- 
duction!)— when  her  father  saddled  his  horse,  and  rode 
with  me  to  the  top  of  a  mountain,  and  her  own  hands  pre- 
pared the  grateful  supper  and  breakfast  which  gave  nie 
strength  for  the  tramp  to  Monterey.  It  was  pleasant  to 
meet  her  again  as  the  happy  mistress  of  such  a  princely 
home. 

The  garden  delighted  us  beyond  measure.  The  Avalks 
were  waist-deep  in  fuchsia,  heKotrope,  and  geruniimi ;  the 

9 


194  AT   HOME    AND    ABUOAD. 

lemon  verbena  grew  high  above  our  lieads,  and  the  pepper- 
trees,  with  their  hjose,  misty  bonghs,  hailed  us  as  old 
friends  from  the  skies  of  Athens.  A  row  of  Italian  cypress- 
es, straight  and  spiry  as  those  which  look  on  Florence 
from  San  Miniato,  were  shooting  rapidly  above  the  other 
growths  of  the  garden.  How  they  will  transform  the 
character  of  the  landscape  when,  at  last,  their  dark  obe- 
lisks stand  in  full  stature!  Here,  in  the  middle  of  October, 
all  was  bloom  and  warmth,  as  in  our  Atlantic  Augusts.  A 
Aveek  or  two  of  heavy  rain,  in  November,  ushers  in  the 
winter,  and  the  balmy  skies,  green  turf,  and  sprouting 
daisies  of  January,  announce  the  coming  of  another  beau- 
tiful year.  What  a  country  is  this  for  a  home — if  it  were 
not  quite  so  new  ! 

Our  passage  was  taken  for  Thursday,  the  20th  of  Octo- 
ber, so  that  but  few  days  were  left  us  on  Californian  soil, 
and  we  hastened  back  to  San  Francisco.  We  had  already 
overstayed  by  a  fortnight  the  time  which  we  had  allotted  to 
our  visit,  but  although  j)rivate  interests  and  sacred  ties 
alike  called  us  home,  we  could  not  conceal  an  emotion  of 
sorrow  and  regret  at  the  thought  of  leaving.  We  had 
found  many  kind  friends  in  San  Francisco,  so  that  the 
charm  of  human  associations  was  added  to  that  of  its  cli- 
mate and  scenery.  Besides  the  free,  liberal,  sensible  life 
of  the  place  has  its  separate  attractions.  The  society  of 
San  Francisco  is  a  combination  of  two  extremes — the  aris- 
tocratic and  democratic  principles  in  sharp  contrast — Puri- 
tanism in  religion,  and  Sunday  theatres— and  between  the 
two,  a  man  of  sense  and  reflection  finds  a  clear  space,  where 
he  may  live  and  move  untrammelled. 


NEW   PICTURES   FKOM   CAUFOKNIA.  195 

On  Wednesday  evening,  I  gave  my  final  lecture,  for  the 
benefit  of  the  Protestant  Orphan  Asylum — making,  in  all, 
thirty-eight  lectures  in  California,  in  the  space  of  eight 
weeks.  As  the  first  attempt  to  transplant  the  Great  Insti- 
tution to  the  Pacific  Coast,  the  result  was  in  the  highest 
degree  cheering.  My  visit  was  made  at  probably  the  most 
unfavorable  period  of  the  year — at  the  close  of  the  dry 
season,  when  business  is  dull,  and  in  the  midst  of  violent 
political  excitement — yet  there  was  no  single  instance  of 
i'ailure.  The  people  everywhere  showed  themselves  wide- 
Jiwake,  intelligent,  and  appreciativ^e. 

Although  ray  impressions  of  California  have  been  scat- 
tered plentifully  throughout  the  foregoing  sketches,  my 
readers  may,  like  myself,  feel  the  necessity  of  reproducing 
them  in  a  final  resume^  detached  from  my  narrative  of  per- 
sonal experiences.  During  the  interval  often  years  between 
my  two  visits,  I  traversed  the  three  continents  of  the  ancient 
hemisphere,  passing  through  all  zones  of  the  earth  (with 
the  exception  of  the  Antarctic)  ;  and  therefore  possessed 
the  best  possible  means  of  verifying  or  correcting  the  im- 
pressions of  the  first  visit  by  those  of  the  second.  This 
circumstance,  I  trust,  may  give  additional  weight  to  my 
opinions,  even  with  those  who  may  honestly  differ  from 
them. 

The  first  thing  to  be  considered,  in  discussing  the  cha- 
racter of  a  new  counti-y,  is  its  climate.  California  possesses 
the  great  advantage  of  lying  upon  the  western  side  of  the 
continent,  which,  as  compared  with  the  eastern,  is  an  iso- 
thermal difference  equal  to  ten  degrees  of  latitude.  Thus, 
San  Francisco,  lying  on  very  nearly  the  same  parallel  aa 


196  AT    HOME    ANIJ    ABROAD. 

Richmond,  possesses  the  climate  of  Andalusia  and  Sicily — 
or  Jacksonville,  Florida,  on  our  Atlantic  Coast,  There  are 
local  differences,  however,  which  give  it  an  advantage  over 
countries  in  the  same  latitude  in  Europe.  Climate,  it  is 
well-known,  is  greatly  modified  by  the  character  of  the 
prevailing  winds.  California,  like  India,  is  exposed  to  tlie 
,  action  of  a  periodical  monsoon,  blowing  from  the  north- 
west during  the  summer,  and  from  the  south-east  during 
the  winter.  The  former  wind,  cooled  by  the  Arctic  current 
which  sweeps  downward  along  the  coast,  precipitates  fog 
as  it  meets  with  the  hot,  dry  winds  of  the  interior ;  and 
the  summer,  in  the  valleys  of  the  Coast  Range,  seems  actu- 
ally to  be  cooler  than  the  winter.  In  the  same  manner, 
the  dry,  warm  south-east  winds,  coming  over  the  vast 
deserts  of  heated  sand  on  both  sides  of  the  Colorado, 
heighten  the  winter  temperature.  The  mean  temperature 
of  noonday,  throughout  the  year,  is  remarkably  equable, 
for  such  a  latitude.  The  seasons  seem  to  have  shifted  their 
parts,  the  winter  being  green  and  fragrant  with  flowers, 
and  the  summer  brown  and  bare  on  the  hills,  while  the 
forests  of  live  oak,  bay,  redwood,  and  pine,  rejoice  in  eter- 
nal verdure. 

A  record  of  temj^erature  has  been  for  nine  years  carefully 
kept  by  Dr.  Gibbons,  at  San  Francisco.  The  greatest  cold 
in  tliat  time  was  25°,  and  the  greatest  heat  98".  These 
may,  therefore,  be  taken  as  the  extremes,  showing  tlie 
utmost  range  of  the  thermometer.  The  difference  is  TS'', 
but  the  average  annual  range  is  not  more  than  65".  In 
Kcw  York  and  the  New  England  States,  it  is  near  130". 
At  San  Francisco,  in  1853,  the  maximum  was  88°,  and  the 


NEW   PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORXIA.  197 

minimum  40°.  Another  peculiarity  of  the  climate  is  the 
difference  between  the  temperature  of  day  and  night.  The 
mean  daily  range  varies  from  12®  to  23°,  being  least  in 
winter  and  greatest  in  summer.  The  nights,  therefore, 
throughout  the  year  are  of  a  much  more  uniform  tempera- 
ture than  the  days — a  fact  which  contributes  very  greatly 
to  the  health  of  the  inhabitants,  as  well  as  to  the  vigor  of 
vegetation.  In  the  interior,  where  the  heats  of  summer  are 
much  more  intense  than  in  the  coast  valleys,  the  difference 
is  still  greater.  The  summer  thus  possesses  a  bracing  ele- 
ment in  the  midst  of  her  fiercest  fires.  California  presents 
the  anomaly  of  a  semi-tropical  climate,  with  all  the  inspiring 
and  invigorating  qualities  of  a  Northern  atmosphere. 

In  this  respect,  therefore,  our  Pacific  Coast  stands  une- 
qualled by  any  land  in  the  world.  It  is  not  without  draw- 
backs— for  the  cold  coast-winds  of  summer,  the  unfathom- 
able dust  of  autumn,  and  the  first  deluging  rains  of  winter, 
are  things  to  be  endured — but  no  one,  except  a  fool,  expects 
to  find  absolute  perfection  on  this  planet.  The  dry,  pure 
air  possesses  no  taint  of  malaria ;  fevers  are  rare,  except  in 
a  few  localities,  and  the  great,  world-encircling  epidemics 
lose  half  their  violence.  The  statistics  of  San  Francisco 
show  that  it  is,  already,  one  of  the  healthiest  cities  in  the 
world.  As  a  place  for  the  development  and  the  enjoyment 
of  animal  life,  I  know  no  land  equal  to  California. 

The  peculiarity  of  the  climate,  combining  great  variation 
between  day  and  night — with  comparatively  little  variation 
between  winter  and  summer — seems  to  be  especially  favor- 
able to  vegetable  life  ;  and  this,  I  suspect,  is  the  main  cause 
of  those  productions  which   have   astonished   the   world. 


198  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

Something,  of  course,  may  be  attributed  to  the  virgin  vigor 
of  a  new  soil ;  but  wliere  this  lias  already  been  expended, 
as  in  the  region  about  Los  Angeles,  the  same  results  are 
obtained.  With  the  exception  of  the  apple,  all  fruits,  from 
the  fig  to  the  pear,  from  the  pomegranate  and  olive  to  the 
gooseberry  and  currant,  thrive  better  than  elsewhere. 
With  regard  to  grapes,  the  average  annual  yield  is  four- 
teen pounds  per  vine.  When  all  the  ^dnes  now  planted  are 
in  bearing  condition,  they  will  produce ^^«e  million  gallons 
of  wine  annually.  A  more  wholesome  and  delicate  spark- 
ling wine  is  not  easily  found  than  that  manufactured  by  the 
Brothers  Sansevain,  who  bid  fair  to  reproduce,  on  that  far 
shore,  the  famous  "Sansovino,"  the  praises  of  which  Redi, 
the  Tuscan  Bacchus,  sang  in  his  dancing  verse.  Let  me 
add  a  few  more  specimens  of  vegetable  production  to  those 
I  have  already  given.  The  California  Register  says :  "  A 
fig-tree,  four  years  from  the  cutting,  is  seventeen  inches 
around  the  stem,  twenty  feet  high,  and  bears  two  crops  a 
year ;  a  grape-vine,  three  years  old,  yields  eighty  pounds 
of  grapes ;  a  tree,  three  years  old,  bears  fifty-five  apples, 
weighing,  on  an  average,  nine  ounces  each !'' 

The  six  months  during  which  no  rain  falls  have  not  the 
usual  eifect  of  a  drouth  in  the  Atlantic  States.  The  grain 
is  all  ripe  early  in  the  season,  and  may  be  cut,  threshed, 
measured,  and  sold  (all  in  the  open  air)  just  as  the  farmer 
can  spare  time.  The  hard-baked  surface  of  the  earth  covers 
a  stratum  of  moister  soil,  into  which  the  trees  thrust  their 
roots,  and  flourish  ;  and  though  the  velvet  turf,  which  is 
the  glory  of  northern  hinds,  is  wanting,  yet  the  blue  lupin, 
the  orange-colored  poppy,  and  other  salamandrine  flowers, 


NEW    PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  199 

blossom  in  all  the  valleys,  I  saw  but  one  genuine  piece  of 
tnrf  in  California.  It  was  in  front  of  a  house  in  San  Jose, 
where  it  was  kept  alive  and  fresh  by  artificial  showers.  Its 
dazzling  greenness  and  beauty  seemed  to  be  little  short  of 
a  miracle.  Trees,  when  transplanted,  require  to  be  care- 
fully watered  the  first  summer,  after  which,  they  are  gene- 
rally able  to  supply  themselves.  Water,  which  is  struck 
everywhere  in  the  valleys,  at  a  depth  of  twenty  or  thirty 
feet,  is  sweet  and  good. 

So  far  as  scenery  is  concerned,  I  can  imagine  nothing 
lovelier  than  the  valleys  of  San  Jose,  Napa,  Russian  River, 
and  San  Ramon.  The  one  feature  which  they  lack — in 
common  with  the  landscapes  of  Italy  and  Spain — is  water. 
The  streams  which  traverse  them  in  winter,  become  dry, 
stony  beds  in  summer,  and  the  matchless  trees  which  adorn 
their  banks,  have  no  glass  wherein  to  mirror  their  beauty. 
In  all  other  respects — color,  outline,  harmony  of  forms — 
there  is  nothing  to  be  desired.  Even  the  great  plains  of 
Sacramento  and  San  Joaquin  are  redeemed  from  tameness 
by  the  superb  framing  of  the  distant  mountains  on  cither 
side,  and  thus  are  far  more  beautiful  than  those  dreary, 
interminable  prairies  of  the  West,  which  fiitigue  the  sight 
with  their  monotony.  The  scenery  of  that  portion  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  which  I  visited  is  less  picturesque  and  strik- 
ing than  that  of  other  mountain-chains  of  equal  height, 
owing  to  the  uniform  character  of  the  great  slopes  between 
the  rivers,  buttressing  the  central  chain.  The  two  or  three 
exceptions  to  this  judgment,  are  Spartan  cafion,  the 
region  about  Mokelumne  Hill,  and  Columbia.  The  valley 
of    the   Yo-Semite,   further   south,  is   the  one  grand   find 


200  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

incompai'able  feature  of  the  Sierra  Nevada.  Further 
north,  however,  the  Shasta  Peak,  Lassen's  Butte,  and  the 
upper  valley  of  the  Saci-amento,  present  a  new  series 
of  mag-nificent  landscapes,  forming  the  proper  vestibule 
through  which  to  approach  Oregon,  with  its  giant  cones  of 
solitary  snow. 

On  the  whole,  California  is  a  land  where  life  seems  to  be 
most  plastic — where,  so  far  as  climate,  soil,  and  scenery  are 
concerned,  one  may  shajDe  his  existence  in  the  most  various 
moulds.  Within  the  range  of  two  hundred  miles,  he  may 
live  on  the  mountains,  or  by  the  sea — among  pines  or  pome- 
granates— in  snow  or  flowers — in  the  maddest  whirl  of  busi- 
ness, or  in  dreamy  indolence — on  the  confines  of  barbarism, 
or  the  topmost  round  of  civilization.  Why  not,  then,  escape 
care,  consumption,  cold,  neuralgia,  fashion,  bigotry,  east- 
winds,  gossip,  and  chilblains,  and  fly  to  that  happy  shore  ? 
For  one  simple  reason :  It  is  too  new — too  recently  fallen 
into  the  possession  of  man — too  far  away  from  the  great 
centres  of  the  world's  life — too  little  touched,  as  yet,  with 
the  genial  influences  of  Art  and  Taste.  Life,  at  present,  is 
beautiful  there,  but  lonely ;  and  so  it  must  remain  for  an- 
other generation  to  come.  Li  the  valleys  of  the  Coast 
Kange,  Nature  is  in  advance  of  Man.  Gold  is  yet  King — 
though,  I  think,  and  hope,  already  beginning  to  shake  a 
little  on  his  throne. 

Taking  into  consideration  the  fact  that  Califorma  was 
Bettled  exclusively  by  persons  in  pursuit  of  wealth,  and  that 
money-making  is,  more  especially  there  than  elsewhere,  the 
main  object  of  life,  the  character  of  society  is  far  less  cold 
and  sordid  than  might  have   been   expected.      Even   the 


NEW    PICTURES    FROM    CALIFORNIA.  201 

wealthy  circles,  composed  of  families  from  all  parts  of  the 
United  States,  and  of  all  pliases  of  refinement,  have  less 
pretentiousness  and  exclusiveness  than  the  same  circles  in 
New  York,  Philadelphia,  or  Boston.  There  is  a  genial  libe- 
rality, courtesy,  and  heartiness  of  demeanor,  which  is  as 
refreshing  as  it  is  unexpected.  A  highly  cultivated  person 
would,  undoubtedly,  find  many  agreeable  associates  in  San 
Francisco — though  he  might  miss  that  vitalizing  influence 
which  a  'productive  class  of  authors,  artists,  and  savans 
always  imparts  to  the  intellect  of  a  country.  These  are 
flowers  that  only  grow  after  all  other  kinds  of  growth  have 
been  in  a  measure  accomplished. 

The  influence  of  the  climate  has  already  made  its  impres- 
sion on  the  character  of  the  people.  They  will,  in  time, 
exhibit  the  same  combination  of  Northern  and  Southern 
peculiarities  ;  and  the  result,  1  hope,  will  be  as  favorable 
to  their  moral,  as  it  undoubtedly  will  be  to  their  physical 
nature.  If  this  should  be  so — if  they  should  possess  an 
equal  capacity  for  action  and  repose,  warmth  without  fickle- 
ness, principle  without  coldness,  a  broad  and  genial  huma- 
nity, earnestness  combined  with  grace  and  softness,  and  a 
perception  of  life's  duties  in  the  midst  of  its  sensuous  enjoy- 
ments— there  will  at  last  be  a  happy  American-born  race. 
But  this  is  expecting  too  much.  I  confess,  when  I  look 
into  the  vile  pit  of  California  politics  (holding  my  nose  all 
the  time),  and  note  what  is  the  standard  of  honesty  in  pub- 
lic aifairs,  my  hope  grows  small.  It  is  no  worse,  I  must 
admit,  than  in  the  city  of  New  York — an  admission  which 
does  not  better  my  statement.  The  home  of  Literature 
and  Art,  however,  will  be  in  the  valleys  near  the  coast — 


202  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

not  among  the  scarred  and  tortured  hills  of  gold,  where 
official  misrule  most  flourishes. 

The  children  born  in  California  are  certainly  a  great  im- 
provement upon  those  born  among  us.  N^ovvhere  can  more 
rosy  specimens  of  health  and  beauty  be  found.  Strong- 
limbed,  red-blooded,  graceful,  and  as  full  of  happy  animal 
life  as  young  fawns,  they  bid  fair  to  develop  into  admirable 
types  of  manhood  and  womanhood.  To  them,  loving  their 
native  soil  with  no  acquired  love — knowing  no  associations 
which  are  not  linked  with  its  blue  skies  and  its  yellow  hills, 
we  must  look  for  its  proper  inhabitants,  who  will  retain  all 
that  is  vigorous,  earnest,  and  generous  in  the  present  race, 
I'ejecting  all  that  is  coarse  and  mean.  For  myself,  in  breath- 
ing an  air  sweeter  than  that  which  first  caught  the  honeyed 
words  of  Plato — in  looking  upon  lovelier  vales  than  those 
of  Tempe  and  the  Eurotas — in  wandering  through  a  land 
whose  sentinel  peak  of  Sli^sta  far  overtops  the  Olympian 
throne  of  Jupiter — I  could  not  but  feel  that  Nature  must  be 
false  to  her  promise,  or  Man  is  not  the  splendid  creature 
he  once  Avas,  if  the  Art,  and  Literature,  and  Philosophy  of 
Ancient  Greece  are  not  one  day  rivalled  on  this  last  of  in- 
habited  shores ! 


III. 

A  HOME  m  THE  THURINGIAN  FOREST. 


1. — ^Taking  Possession. 

July  1,  1861. 
The  postillion  has  driven  off  down  the  hill,  the  letter- 
carrier  has  brought  in  the  last  small  bundle,  the  landlady 
has  opened  the  rooms  and  initiated  us  into  all  the  mysteries 
of  closets,  cupboards,  and  cellars — and  here  we  are,  at  home ! 
I  herewith  take  possession  of  my  little  study,  with  its  one 
window  opening  on  the  mountains,  and  the  writing  cabinet, 
(as  small  and  plain  as  that  which  Schiller  used,)  and  feel 
myself  already  lord  and  master  of  the  cottage  and  garden, 
and  co-proprietor  of  the  landscape.  The  air  is  so  cold — 
after  six  days'  rain — that  we  have  kindled  a  fire  of  puie- 
splints  in  the  great  earthenware  stove.  The  fir-clad  moun- 
tains are  black  and  lowering,  and  there  is  really,  just  at 
this  moment,  no  very  cheerful  point  in  the  scenery,  unless 
it  be  the  Felsenkeller,  a  rustic  tavern  on  the  ridge  beside  us, 
where  the  beer  is  always  of  the  best. 


204  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

Nevertheless,  the  gloom  of  the  evening  is  counterbalanced 
by  our  pleasant  feeling  of  independence — by  the  knowledge 
that  we  occupy  a  house  which  we  can  temporarily  call  our 
own,  conducting  our  housekeeping  as  we  see  fit.  The 
rooms  are  neatly  but  completely  furnished ;  a  little  bare, 
perhaps,  to  an  American  eye,  but  we  are  accustomed  to  the 
simplicity  of  German  life,  and,  moreover,  our  home  is  rather 
outside  than  inside  the  cottage.  Still,  it  is  well  to  know 
that  the  beds  are  of  fresh  linen,  that  the  supply  of  water  is 
ample,  and  that  the  cane  arm  chairs  in  the  drawing-room 
are  agreeable  to  sit  upon.  A  peep  into  the  kitchen  dis- 
closed the  surprising  fact  that  we  have  butter,  eggs,  salad, 
and  raw  Westphalian  ham,  and  as  Hanna,  the  tidy  servant- 
girl  who  awaited  our  arrival,  has  already  made  a  fire  in  the 
ponderous  range,  I  feel  tliat  our  supper  is  secure.  Let  no 
apprehension  for  the  morrow,  therefore,  disturb  our  first 
day  of  possession ! 

Really,  this  is  the  ideal  of  Travel.  Not  in  great  hotels, 
where  one  lives  according  to  fixed  rules,  or  pays  enormously 
for  breaking  them — not  in  capitals,  where  the  levelling 
civilization  of  our  century  is  fast  annihilating  social  pecu- 
liarities, and  establishing,  so  to  speak,  a  uniform  gauge, 
adapted  to  all  nationalities,  can  one  feel  the  pulse  of  a 
foreign  life.  Men  must  be  studied  in  their  homes,  and, 
whenever  possible,  from  a  home  among  them.  "We  must 
find  an  empty  cell  in  the  hive,  and  inhabit  the  same,  though 
it  be  in  the  character  of  a  drone.  What  the  tent — the 
wandering  house  of  the  nomad — is  to  the  traveller  on  the 
Tartar  steppes,  the  furnished  summer  residence  is  to  the 
stranger  in  most  European  countries.     But  one  must  not, 


A    HOME    IX   THE   TIliJEINGIAN   FOREST.  205 

nice  poor  Tom  Hood,  on  the  Rhine,  be  so  ignorant  of  the 
language,  as  to  have  a  bunch  of  quills  put  on  the  table 
instead  of  a  fowl,  nor  so  wedded  to  his  home  habits  as  to 
make  himself  unhappy  because  he  cannot  retain  them.  With 
a  little  human  flexibility,  a  catholic  breadth  of  taste,  and  an 
entire  freedom  from  the  prejudices  of  the  Little  Peddlington 
in  which  most  men  are  born,  we  may,  without  sacrificing  a 
jot  of  our  individuality,  without  hazarding  the  loss  of  a 
single  principle,  live  the  life  of  other  races  and  other  cli- 
mates, and  thus  gather  into  our  own  the  aggregate  expe- 
rience of  Man. 

This  is  the  true  HeimsJcringla,  or  World-Circle — the 
completed  sphere  of  life  on  this  planet,  which  he  must  tra-. 
verse  who  shall  write  the  yet  unwritten  human  Cosmos. 

— This  little  study,  I  find,  illustrates  a  truth  which  is 
known  to  authors,  and  to  none  else  :  that  the  range  of 
thought  is  in  inverse  proportion  to  the  dimensions  of  the 
matei-ial  dwelling  of  the  thinker.  In  other  words,  the  nar- 
rower your  chamber,  the  wider  your  brain :  hence  poets 
seek  garrets  by  a  natural  instinct,  and  the  philosopher  who 
could  not  sling  a  cat  in  his  room  assuredly  never  felt  the 
need  of  that  diversion.  The  mental  labor  which  it  would 
be  diflicult  to  perform  in  a  spacious  Gothic  hall,  would  be 
comparatively  easy  in  a  low  hut,  with  one  window.  If  this 
journal  should  be  discursive — of  which  I  have  a  strong  pre- 
sentiment— the  reason  will  be  apparent. 

But  where  is  our  home  ?  A  familiar  spot  in  a  foreign 
land — distant,  happily,  from  any  capital,  except  that  of  a 
small  principality,  avide  from  the  highways  of  tourists,  yet 
embosomed  in  a  region  of  the  loveliest  scenery,  and  breath- 


206  AT   HOME    AND    ABllOAD. 

ing  an  atmosphere  of  song  and  saga.  Thtiringia  is  the 
Heart  of  Germany,  embracing  the  scattered  Saxon  Duchies 
of  Gotha,  Weimar,  Meiningen,  and  Schwarzburg.  Its  soil 
has  not  only  witnessed  the  most  picturesque  episodes  of 
mediaeval  German  history,  but  is  the  home  of  the  fairest 
traditions,  as,  in  later  years,  it  has  been  the  chosen  home 
of  poets. 

In  a  valley  on  the  northern  slope  of  the  mountain-range 
known  as  the  Thtiringian  Forest,  separated  by  a  low  ridge 
from  the  Ducal  park  and  castle  of  Reinhardtsbrunn,  lies  the 
little  city  of  Friedrichsroda.  Although  claiming  a  remote 
antiquity,  like  most  of  the  towns  hereabout,  it  was  first 
•  brought  into  notice  by  Frederic  Perthes,  the  pious  and  suc- 
cessful publisher,  of  whom  you  have  doubtless  heard.  The 
beauty  of  the  scenery,  the  purity  of  the  mountain  air,  and 
its  proximity  to  a  number  of  attractive  or  histoi-ically  famous 
localities,  gradually  drew  strangers  hither,  until  the  city 
has  now  become  a  sort  of  summer  suburb  of  Berlin.  I  say 
"  the  city "  intentionally,  for,  although  the  place  has  but 
2,300  inhabitants,  I  should  give  offence  by  calling  it  a  vil- 
lage. There  was  formerly  a  sculptured  head  with  wide-open 
mouth,  over  the  gate,  recording  the  fate  of  a  stranger,  Avho, 
on  his  arrival,  asked  "  what  is  the  name  of  this  village  ?" 
He  had  no  sooner  said  "  village^''  than  his  jaws  became  set, 
and  his  mouth  remained  open ;  nor  could  he  close  it  until 
he  perceived  his  error.  The  place  was  best  known  in  the 
Middle  Ages  by  a  malicious  song  which  the  jealous  inhabit- 
ants of  the  neighboring  towns  were  accustomed  to  sing, 
One  verse  thereof  will  be  sufficient : 


A   HOME   IN   THE   TUiJKIXGIAN   FOREST.  207 

"  Tell  me,  of  what  is  the  church-spire  made, 
Oho,  in  Friedrichsroda  ? 
They  took  and  killed  a  lean  old  cow, 
And  made  the  spire  of  her  tail,  I  trow, 
Oho,  in  Friedrichsroda  1" 

It  is  neai'ly  nine  years  since,  descending  from  the  heights 
of  the  Inselsberg,  I  first  saw  the  quiet,  peaceful,  pleasant 
little  city^  lying  in  its  green  valley-basin,  with  a  protecting 
rim  of  dark  forests.  I  then  made  some  acquaintances 
which,  in  the  course  of  time,  and  through  the  coui-se  of 
circumstances,  became  family  connections,  and  thus  it  is 
that  I  now  find  myself  here.  Three  years  ago  my  friend 
Dr.  K.  built  a  summer  cottage  in  his  garden,  above  the 
town,  on  the  ridge  between  Friedrichsroda  andReinhardts- 
brunn,  commanding  a  charming  view  of  both  valleys.  This 
cottage  I  kept  in  my  mind,  and  was  so  fortunate  as  to  secure 
it  before  leaving  home,  as  a  little  eddy  into  which  I  might 
whirl  and  rest  for  a  few  weeks,  out  of  reach  of  the  roaring 
stream.  My  predecessor,  Dr.  Petermann,  the  distinguished 
geographer,  left  no  inharmonious  associations  behind  him. 
The  invisible  pictures  of  Timbuctu,  and  the  "White  Nile, 
and  the  Tanganyika  Lake,  which  no  doubt  cover  the  blue- 
papered  walls  of  my  study,  might  have  floated  out  of  my 
own  brain.  Palms  and  crocodiles  and  hippopotami !  They 
are  to  me-  as  welcome  and  as  familiar  as  the  stately  firs 
which  I  can  see  by  lifting  my  head,  or  the  three  ravens  on 
the  grass  before  my  window. 

One  only  thought  disturbs  the  peace  and  seclusion  of  my 
mountain  home.  I  do  not  need  to  close  my  eyes,  to  see 
that  long,  imperial  street,  transformed  into  an  avenue  of 


208  AT   HOME  AXD    ABROAD. 

banners — to  see  the  sudden  blossoming  of  national  colors 
from  every  roof,  every  cluirch-spire,  eveiy  hilltoj) — to  see 
the  "sun-burst"  of  Freedom  spreading  southward  in  a 
mighty  arc,  slowly  driving  before  it  the  black  cloud  of 
t^Tanny  and  treachery.  I  see  my  noble  countrymen,  God 
bless  them  !  creating  a  race  of  heroes,  refreshing  our  slow 
commercial  blood  from  the  fountains  of  sublime  self-sacrifice 
and  purest  patriotism  ;  I  wait  for  the  tardy  messages  which 
reach  me  across  the  Atlantic,  and  with  every  new  instance 
that  a  great  people  is  thoroughly  in  earnest,  Avith  every 
illustration  of  bravery,  and  endurance,  and  devotion  to  the 
good  cause,  I  hear  a  voice  saying,  like  Henry  of  Navarre  : 
"  Pends-toi,  h'ave  Crillon :  nous  avons  conibattu^  et  tu  n'y 
etois  pas .'"  My  consolation  is,  that  if  "  they  also  serve, 
who  only  stand  and  wait,''  in  the  present  crisis  they  who 
are  afar  from  the  field  of  action  may  yet  make  themselves 
echoes  of  the  battle-trumpets — interpreters  of  the  war-cries, 
to  these  millions  of  Euro2)ean  spectators. 

Yes !  Here,  at  this  distance,  I  see  truly  the  significance 
of  the  struggle.  Here,  where,  in  years  past,  I  have  com- 
bated hostile  opinions,  grappled  with  tough  monarchical 
prejudices,  and  exhausted  myself  in  endeavors  to  make  our 
political  system  clear  to  minds  which,  otherwise  well  in- 
structed, had  not  the  least  comprehension  of  its  character 
— my  present  difficulty  is,  not  to  show  that  the  rebellion 
should  be  suppressed,  but  to  show  how  it  could  possibly 
have  arisen.  The  fatal  imV)ecility  of  Buchanan's  adminis- 
tration lias  seriously  damaged  our  prestige  abroad:  any 
hesitancy,  any  tampering  with  treason,  any  failui'e  on  the 
part  of  o\ir   rulers  to  ])ress  the  war  boldly  and  vigorously 


A   HOME   IN   THE   THDKINGIAN  FOEEST.  209 

to  a  conclusion,  would  complete  the  mischief.  In  Europe, 
it  is  our  republican  form  of  government  that  is  on  trial.  A 
despotic  assumption  of  power  would  injure  us  far  less,  in 
the  present  instance,  than  an  exhibition  of  weakness.  As 
an  orthodox  believer  in  self-government,  my  constant  pray- 
er is :  "  God  preserve  us  from  the  shame,  the  ineradicable 
infamy  of  Peace  on  any  other  terms  than  the  unconditional 
submission  of  the  traitors !" 


The  postman  has  returned  with  a  manuscript-book,  in 
which  we  are  required  to  write  our  names.  At  the  same 
time  he  is  authorized  to  receive  "  contributions,"  which  go 
into  a  common  fund  for  the  preservation  of  the  forest-paths, 
of  the  numerous  benches,  or  "rests''  as  they  are  called,  and 
for  newspapers  for  the  reading-room.  The  latter  institution, 
I  have  discovered,  is  no  other  than  the  aforesaid  Felsen- 
keller,  where  one  can  read  The  Cologne  and  The  National 
Gazette^  it  is  true,  but  is  expected  to  drink  a  mug  of  beer 
at  the  same  time.  As  for  the  paths  and  benches,  there  is 
no  part  of  the  world  where  the  convenience  of  sti'angers  is 
so  carefully  consulted,  as  here.  The  entire  mountain-region, 
fifty  miles  in  extent,  resembles  a  private  park,  traversed  by 
macadamized  highways,  gravelled  foot-paths,  and  with  com- 
fortable benches  or  even  arbors  at  every  possible  point  where 
the  scenery  offers  any  attraction  for  the  eye.  Fancy  the 
White  Mountain  group  civilized  in  a  similar  manner !  This 
is  Nature  stripped  of  her  paint  and  feathers,  washed,  and 
her  nakedness  decently  covered.  You  may  admire  the 
strength  and  primitive  rudeness  of  the  savage,  b\it  you 


210  AT   HOME    AXD    ABROAP. 

better  love  the  tamed  domestic  croatui'e  Avho  sympathizes 
with  your  cahn,  cheerful,  or  reflective  mood,  walks  by  your 
side  with  ordered  step,  and  can  sit  down  with  you,  quietly, 
in  the  sweet,  rosy  silence  of  the  long  summer  evening. 


2. — How  WE  Speio"  the  Fourth. 

July  4th — Evening. 

On  awaking  this  morning,  I  became  aAvare  of  an  unusual 
sound  of  hammering  about  the  cottage.  A  mysterious 
whispering  between  the  two  servant-maids  in  the  passage 
also  attracted  my  attention.  I  went  into  the  salon^  which 
opens  upon  the  veranda,  and  was  surprised  to  find  two 
long  ladders  reared  in  front  of  the  glass-doors.  Dr.  K. 
standing  on  the  grass-plot,  under  an  apple-tree,  appeared 
to  be  gazing  steadfastly  at  the  roof.  As  we  found  the 
house  in  admirable  condition,  I  was  curious  to  ascertain 
what  repairs  or  improvements  he  had  in  view.  There  were 
two  men  on  the  ladders,  employed  in  fixing  the  last  clamp 
to  a  flag-stafi"  which  rose  from  the  apex  of  the  gable.  Just 
then,  a  breeze  came  down  from  the  mountains  and  blew 
out  the  folds  of — an  American  flag !  Yes — our  national 
banner,  although  it  contained  but  six  stripes ;  for  the  good 
Dr.,  in  his  anxiety  to  give  me  at  once  a  surprise  and  a 
welcome  on  this  day  of  all  days,  had  been  more  kind  than 
correct.  But  the  stars  were  all  there.  The  whole  thirty- 
four  glittered  in  the  blue  field,  in  defiance  of  secession  or 
cofnpromise ;  and  thus  the  first  American  flag  which  ever 


A    HOME   IN   THE   TIIURINGlAN    FOREST.  211 

"waved  above  tlie  Thtiringian  Forest  was  no  symbol  of  a 
divided  Union  !  How  brightly  the  red  stripes  shone  against 
the  background  of  the  firs!  How  the  stars  seemed  to 
lighten  and  sparkle  in  the  morning  sun  ! 

To-day,  it  occurs  to  me,  is  the  pivot  on  which  our  politi- 
cal balance  turns.  As  the  men  who  this  day  meet  in 
Washington  shall  decide,  shall  Honor  or  Disgrace,  Weak- 
ness or  Strength,  prevail.  I  am  so  far  away  that  the 
involuntary  conflict  of  hope  and  fear  is  worse  than  useless, 
and  before  these  words  can  reach  America,  the  doubt  will 
either  be  dissolved  in  hopeful  confidence,  or  deepened  into 
desperation.  This  much  is  certain  :  the  path  of  Honor,  of 
Duty,  of  Patriotism  is  plain — there  is  but  one.  Woe  to 
the  Republic,  if  that  path  be  not  followed ! 

— The  weather,  thus  far,  has  not  been  propitious  for  our 
contemplated  mountain  walks.  Unhappily,  after  a  fort- 
night of  splendid  weather,  it  rained  last  week,  on  the  day 
of  the  Seven  Sleepers  !  This,  in  German  weather-prophecy, 
denoted  rain  every  day  for  seven  weeks  thereafter  ;  and,  this 
year,  the  rule  seems  likely  to  bold  good.  The  sun  rises  in 
cloudless  splendor,  but  by  seven  o'clock  the  sky  is  overcast : 
heavy  bluish-gray  clouds  drag  along  the  mountain-tops  : 
distant  thunder  is  heard,  and  presently  a  hard  shower 
comes  driving  from  the  West.  In  half  an  hour  the  sky  is 
blue,  the  meadows  sparkle,  and  snowy  masses  of  cumuli 
topple  over  the  forests.  We  rejoice  at  the  prospect  of  a 
lovely  afternoon,  and  straightAvay  plan  an  excursion  to  one 
of  the  legendary  spots  in  the  neighborhood.  Perhaps  we 
are  already  under  way,  enjoying  the  warmth  and  sunshine, 
heedless  of  an  ominous  blackness  which  is  gathering  behind 


212  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

the  Evil  Mountain — evil,  indeed,  to  us! — until,  suddenly, 
the  snn  vanishes,  and  a  far-off  rustle  among  the  woods 
announces  the  inevitable  fate. 

It  is  singular  how  slight  a  degree  of  heat  suffices  to 
provoke  a  thunder-shower  in  this  region.  Even  to  an 
American,  accustomed  to  sudden  changes  of  temperature, 
the  continual  vibrations  of  the  thermometer  are  far  from 
agreeable.  Two  or  three  hours  of  sunshine,  at  80°,  and 
you  see  the  gray  vails  of  showers  on  the  horizon.  Then 
the  air  is  suddenly  cooled  for  a  time,  but  becomes  close  and 
sultry  again  as  soon  as  the  breeze  falls.  The  latitude 
(nearly  51°)  is  partly  accountable  for  these  vagaries,  yet 
I  attribute  them  principally  to  the  fact  that  the  spine  of  the 
Thtiringian  forest,  which  is  only  about  three  miles  above 
us,  divides  two  weather  systems,  which  occasionally  over- 
lap each  other.  It  is  difficult  to  realize  that  less  rain  falls 
here  annually  than  in  our  Middle  States,  and  I  am  inclined 
to  suspect  that  the  comparison  was  based  on  the  estimate 
of  a  single  year,  which  did  not  represent  the  normal  average. 
In  the  chronicles  of  the  country  there  are  accounts  of  years 
in  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  centuries,  when  so  much 
rain  fell  that  the  harvests  were  destroyed,  and  thousands 
of  persons  died  of  hunger  and  of  a  pestilence  engendered 
by  the  rotten  grain.  On  the  other  hand,  it  is  true  that  the 
streams  which  issue  from  these  mountains  are  remarkably 
small,  and  but  slightly  swollen  after  heavy  rains.  The  deep 
bed  of  spongy  moss  which  forms  the  floor  of  the  forests, 
holds  much  of  the  moisture,  and  perhaps  accounts  for  both 
facts. 

An  atmospljeric  phenomenon,  scarcely  known  to  us,  is  of 


A   HOME  IN   THK   THUKINGIAN   FOREST.  213 

frequent  occurrence  here.  It  is  called  the  cloud-burst,  a 
terna  which  describes  its  character.  The  clouds,  heavily 
laden,  and  balled  or  rolled  together  by  the  wind,  suddenly 
breaJc  down  under  their  combined  burden,  and  discharge  a 
deluge  of  water,  Avhich  often  occasions  immense  damage 
to  the  fields  and  herds.  Where  the  burst  takes  place  at 
the  head  of  a  narrow  valley,  an  instantaneous  flood  is 
formed,  from  ten  to  twenty  feet  in  depth,  uprooting  trees 
and  sweeping  houses  from  their  foundations.  A  few  weeks 
ago  the  town  of  Skohlen,  not  far  from  Jena,  was  visited 
by  one  of  these  cloud-bursts,  whereby  thirteen  persons 
were  drowned  and  more  than  twenty  buildings  destroyed. 
In  countries  which  have  not  yet  been  denuded  of  their 
forests,  such  a  phenomenon  is  less  likely  to  occur.  Rich- 
ardson describes  a  cloud-burst  which  overwhelmed  his 
camp  at  Tin-tellust,  on  the  frontier  of  Asben,  in  the  Sahara, 
and  oiir  trappers  can  tell  of  others  on  the  plains. 

Hail-storms  are  so  frequent  and  so  destructive  in  North- 
ern Germany,  that  the  prudent  farmer  always  insures  his 
graui  in  the  Hail  Insurance  Company — a  regular  branch  of 
the  insurance  business.  The  hail-cloud  is  recognized  at  a 
distance  by  the  hard,  cold,  yellowish-white  color  of  its 
dropping  curtain.  Its  upper  edges  are  often  of  a  pale 
brownish  hue.  Even  when  it  passes  by  at  a  distance,  it 
chills  the  atmosphere  far  and  wide,  as  an  iceberg  chills  the 
sea-air. 

This  morning  dawned  so  brightly,  and  the  scattered 
clouds  hung  so  lazily  around  the  bottom  of  the  sky,  that 
we  felt  tolerably  sure  of  a  favorable  day  for  our  private 
festival.     At  ten   o'clock   the  postillion's  horn  announced 


214  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

the  approach  of  our  friends,  and  the  post-chaise  slowly 
climbed  the  hill,  and  discharged  its  cargo  of  four  ladies, 
two  gentlemen,  one  child,  and  a  supply  of  meat  and  drink, 
at  our  door.  There  were  cordial  greetings,  for  we  had 
been  separated  three  days,  and  those  whose  hospitality  we 
had  so  often  enjoyed — or  rather  claimed  as  a  right — were 
now  for  the  first  time  our  guests.  To  honor  them,  as  well 
as  the  day,  I  had  sent  to  the  landlord  at  Reinhardtsbrunn 
and  ordered  six  pounds  of  trout,  fresh  from  the  tank. 
I  also  secured  a  supply  of  the  nobler  German  beverage,  as 
was  meet,  and  therewith  my  duties  ended. 

Our  guests  took  eager  possession  of  the  veranda  and 
garden ;  the  children  first  embraced  and  then  pulled  each 
other's  hair,  and  thus  the  festive  machinery  was  put  in 
motion.  In  Germany  one  does  not  need  to  go  around 
with  a  conversational  oil-pot  and  grease  the  individual  cogs 
and  cranks ;  the  wheels  turn  as  soon  as  they  touch.  It  is 
as  easy  as  rolling  a  snow-ball  down  a  steep  hill.  The  least 
impetus  is  sufiicient.  The  ball  increases  in  volume  as  well 
as  in  swiftness,  and  the  only  danger  is  in  attempting  to 
stop  it.  This,  of  course,  where  the  material  is  not  too 
composite  ;  though,  even  in  this  I'espect,  you  can  safely 
combine  more  various  elements  than  in  any  other  society 
I  know  of 

In  England,  a  successful  dinner-party  is  the  result  of 
consummate  art.  The  social  ingredients  are  as  carefully 
measured  and  mixed  as  in  a  sauce  or  a  salad.  The  oil  of 
Mr.  A.  is  secured  to  neutralize  the  vinegar  of  Mr.  B. 
The  Misses  X.  are  the  chickens,  those  promising  young 
gentlemen  the  lettuce,  rich  Mr.  and   Mrs.   So-and-so   the 


A    HOME   IN   THE   TlliJElNGlAX    FOREST.  215 

lobster,  and  somebody  else  the  mustard.  The  host  is 
usually  the  spoon.  Here,  I  am  glad  to  say,  there  is  more 
nature  and  less  calculation.  Repellant  substances  are 
avoided,  of  course,  but  the  attractive  quality  of  the  social 
atoms  is  much  greater.  Another  advantage — it  is  a  part 
of  German  politeness  to  talk.  A  "  wall-flower"  or  a 
"  dummy"  is  the  rarest  apparition.  Johaima  Kinkel,  with 
a  good  deal  of  truth,  calls  the  habitual  silence  of  many 
really  intelligent  English-women  a  laziness  of  tJie  jaws. 
Such  persons  have  no  scruple  in  shirking  their  share  of 
social  duty.  They  find  it  less  trouble  to  look  on  and  listen, 
earing  not  that  their  silence  becomes  a  rock,  against  which 
the  flow  of  social  feeling  is  turned  aside.  Who  does  not 
know  how  one  moody  individual  may  obstruct  the  sunshine 
of  a  whole  company  of  cheerfully-attuned  persons  ?  Soci- 
ety, while  offering  enjoyment  of  the  highest  character, 
imposes  a  corresponding  obligation — a  fact  which  many 
honest  and  worthy  people  seem  not  to  recognize. 

In  the  German  language  there  is  no  epithet  which  exactly 
translates  our  word  hore^  or  its  intensification,  vampyre. 
The  nearest  approach  to  it,  "  lemsieder^''''  means,  literally, 
"  a  boiler  of  glue,"  and  applies  especially  to  a  man  wlio 
takes  you  by  the  button-hole.  This  fact,  alone,  indicates  a 
more  correct  social  culture — at  least,  so  far  as  the  social 
duties  are  concerned.  There  is  no  society  without  its 
faults,  which  have  their  root  in  faults  of  national  character. 
Of  these  I  shall  speak  at  another  time.  Let  me  now 
return  to  the  Fourth  of  July. 

Tliere  was  no  reading  of  the  Declaration  of  Independence, 
for  the  very  good  reason  that  we  have  no  copy  thereof. 


216  AT    HOME   AND    ABUOAD. 

Neither  was  there  an  oration  portraying  the  greatness  and 
glory  of  Our  Country,  because  it  has  yet  to  be  demon- 
strated, by  the  last  and  severest  test,  that  our  country  is 
truly  great  and  glorious.  On  this  day  of  this  yeai-,  1861, 
orations  are  out  of  place.  But  a  divided  family,  united 
for  the  first  time  in  three  years,  took  their  places  at  the 
round  table,  and  when  the  ti'out  and  the  roast-beef  (quite 
as  much  an  American  as  an  English  reminiscence)  had 
disappeared,  a  young  German  spoke  thus :  "  Seeing  that 
we,  whose  hopes  and  labors  are  directed  toward  the  esta- 
blishment of  German  unity  and  nationality,  cannot  be 
indifferent  to  the  preservation  of  the  American  Union, 
which  is  in  many  resj)ects  the  realization  of  our  own  political 
ideas — seeing  that  so  many  of  our  countrymen  have  become 
American  citizens,  and  that  a  thousand  ties  of  blood  and 
friendship  iinite  us — seeing,  moreover,  that  in  the  present 
struggle  we  recognize  a  conflict  between  Barbarism  and 
Civilization,  between  Anarchy  and  Order,  let  us  drink  to 
the  success  of  the  Defenders  of  the  Union,  and  the  triumph 
of  the  Good  Cause  !" 

We  all  rose  and  drank  the  toast  standing,  and  the  silvery 
clinking  of  the  glasses  was  like  a  peal  of  distant  bells, 
ringing  in  the  (let  us  hope)  not  distant  day  of  our  national 
redemption. 

After  one  of  the  inevitable  showers,  the  day  again 
became  bright  and  balmy.  Our  arm-chairs  were  trans- 
feried  to  the  shadow  of  an  apple-tree  on  the  little  lawn, 
and  while  the  younger  ladies  indulged  in  a  somewhat 
irregular  game  of  ball,  we  enjoyed  anew  the  beauty  of 
the  landscape  in  the  enjoyment  of  our  friends.     At    our 


A    HOME   IN   TUB  THUUINGIAN   FOREST.  217 

feet  lay  Frledrichsroda,  its  tiled  roofs  crowded  together  in 
a  long  line  through  the  middle  of  the  valley.  The  slopes 
on  either  side,  divided  into  narrow  strips  of  grain,  varying 
in  growth  and  color,  are  evenly  covered,  as  with  a  ribbed 
velvet  cai'pet,  above  which,  dark  and  grand,  stand  the  fir 
forests.  At  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  facing  us,  is  the 
Badger  Mountain,  rising  squai-e  against  the  sunny  blue  and 
gold  of  the  distant  hills.  Southward,  wooded  to  the 
summit,  stands  the  Kernberg,  divided  by  a  shady  glen  from 
the  Praise-God  (Gottlob) — a  conical  hill,  from  the  western 
slope  of  which  rise  shattered  pillars  of  basalt,  the  topmost 
crowned  with  a  rustic  temple.  Between  the  Praise-God 
and  the  Wolf's-steep  opens  a  deep  mountain  valley,  gloom- 
ing purple  with  its  forests.  On  the  other  side  we  see  the 
profile  of  the  Abbot's  Mountain,  green  with  beeches,  over- 
looking Reinhardtsbrunn,  and  behind  it  the  Evil  Mountain, 
whence  comes  all  our  weather-woe.  Groups  of  summer 
guests  are  constantly  threading  the  lanes,  or  climbing  to 
the  benches  disposed  along  the  heights,  and  the  three  asses 
in  the  town  are  always  in  requisition  to  carry  children  or 
female  invalids.  Women  pass  us,  laden  with  basket-loads 
of  hay  from  the  meadows,  or  fir-twigs  from  the  hills ;  the 
men  work  among  their  turnip  and  potato  fields ;  carriages 
rattle  along  the  highways,  and  every  morning  and  evening 
we  hear  the  multitudinous  chime  of  the  coAV-bells,  as  the 
herds  are  driven  out  to  their  pastures.  The  landscape, 
with  all  its  beauty,  is  full  of  life,  which  is  the  greatest 
beauty  of  all. 

The  evening  came,  and  with  it  the  postillion,  blowing : 


10 


218  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

"A  rose  in  his  hat,  and  a  staff  in  his  hand, 
The  pilgrim  must  wander  from  land  unto  land ; 
Through  many  a  city,  o'er  many  a  plain, 
But  ah!  he  must  leave  them,  must  wander  again  1" 

And  so  it  was  with  our  friends.  The  grandfather  must 
back  to  his  telescope  and  the  new  comet ;  there  were 
household  duties  for  the  women — expected  relatives  from 
afar:  each  was  bound  by  sonie  one  of  th^  sti-ands  which 
go  to  make  xip  the  thread  of  life.  And,  after  they  had 
left,  I  took  up  this,  my  own  particular  strand,  which  having 
spun  to  this  length,  I  now  leave  until  I  receive  a  fresh 
supply  of  material — silk,  or  flax,  or  spider-gossamer — any- 
thmff  but  Cotton ! 


3. — Reinhardtsbeunn,  and  its  Legend. 

July  6,  1861. 
Within  a  mile  of  our  cottage  is  the  castle  of  Reinhardts- 
brunn,  one  of  the  summer  residences  of  Ernest  ;II.,  the 
reigning  Duke  of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.  As  a. specimen  of 
landscape  gardening,  the  surrounding  park  is  unsurpassed 
by  any  similar  spot  on  the  Continent.  The  castle  is.  built 
on  the  ruins  of  a  former  Benedictine  monastery,  which 
owed  its  foundation  to  one  of  the  most  romantic  passages 
of  Thtiringian.  history.  The  first  landgrave  of  Thiiriugia 
was  Ludwig  the  Bearded,  who,,  in  the  first  half  of  the 
eleventh  century,  built  the  castle  of  Schauenburg,  (just 
beyond  the  Wolf-steep,  and  almost  visible  from  my  window,) 
and  made  himself  master  of  all  the  region  round  about. 


A   HOME   IN   THE   THUBINGIAX   FOREST.  219 

His  eldest  son  Ludwig  succeeded  to  the  title  and  posses- 
sions. The  latter  was  a  stalwart,  handsome  fellow,  and  it 
is  perhaps  comprehensible  that  Adelheid,  wife  of  the  Count 
Palatinate  of  Weisseuburg,  should  have  loved  him,  in  pre- 
ference to  her  husband.  Unfortunately  for  both,  the 
passion  was  mutual,  and  a  quarrel,  purposely  brought  on, 
resulted  in  the  death  of  the  Count  Palatinate,  at  the  hands 
of  his  wife's  lover. 

A  year  afterwards  the  guilty  pair  were  wedded,  but  the 
matter  having  come  to  the  ears  of  the  Emperor,  Henry 
IV.,  he  ordered  the  landgrave  to  be  arrested.  The  latter 
refused  to  obey  the  mandate,  but  was  finally  taken  by 
stratagem  and  confined  in  the  fortress  of  Giebichenstein, 
near  Halle.  Here  he  remained  two  years  and  eight  months, 
waiting  for  trial.  (Justice  appears  to  have  been  as  slow, 
if  not  as  blind  a  divinity,  then,  as  now !)  Finally,  weary 
of  the  long  confinement,  he  pretended  to  be  mortally  sick, 
and  was  allowed  to  see  a  servant  who  was  to  bear  his  last 
message  to  his  wife.  The  servant,  however,  received 
orders  to  bring  the  landgrave's  white  horse.  The  Swan,  to 
the  meadow  below  the  castle,  on  a  certam  day.  When  the 
time  arrived,  the  landgrave,  who  continually  complained 
of  cold  and  was  wrapped  in  thick  mantles,  tottered  to  the 
window  as  if  to  take  a  last  look  at  the  sun.  The  six 
knights  who  guarded  him  were  absorbed  in  a  game  of 
chess.  The  castle  was  built  on  a  rock,  overhanging  the 
river  Saale.  The  prisoner,  with  a  cry  of  "  Holy  Virgin 
Mary,  save  thy  servant !"  leaped  from  the  window.  The 
mantles  spread  out,  broke  the  force  of  the  fall,  and  he 
descended  safely  a  hundred  feet  into  the  water.     A  fishing- 


220  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

boat,  purposely  in  waiting,  picked  him  up,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  afterwards  he  was  on  the  back  of  the  Swan, 
speeding  homewards. 

For  this  daring  feat  he  received  the  name  of  Ludwig  the 
Leaj)er,  by  which  he  is  still  known  in  German  history. 

Notwithstanding  the  matter  was  finally  compromised, 
and  the  landgrave  allowed  to  retain  his  possessions,  neither 
he  nor  his  wife  was  happy.  They  had  conscience  enough 
to  be  troubled  by  the  remembrance  of  their  crime  ;  and  so 
it  happened  once,  on  a  Good  Friday,  that  Adelheid  placed 
dishes  of  fowl  and  game  before  her  husband.  Whereupon, 
he  marvelling  that  she  should  expect  him  to  sin  in  this 
manner,  she  answered  :  "  Should  this  sin  be  worth  consider- 
ing, in  comparison  with  that  other  sin  whereof  we  have 
not  yet  repented  ?"  Both  wept,  and  consulted  as  to  what 
penance  was  proper.  The  result  was  a  journey  to  Rome. 
The  Pope  2)romised  them  complete  absolution,  provided 
the  landgrave  should  build  and  richly  endow  a  monastery, 
and  his  wife,  in  like  manner,  establish  a  nunnery.  The 
former  returned  to  his  home  in  the  Schauenburg,  and 
busied  himself  with  the  choice  of  a  site,  but  for  a  long 
time  found  himself  unable  to  decide  upon  one. 

His  attention  was  finally  directed  to  the  neighboring 
valley,  where,  deep  in  the  forest,  lived  a  potter  named 
Reinhardt.  There,  beside  a  strong  fountain  which  gushed 
from  the  earth,  this  potter  saw,  at  night,  two  lights  like 
candles,  which  disappeared  whenever  he  approached  them. 
The  landgrave,  having  himself  witnessed  the  phenomenon, 
accepted  it  as  a  sign  from  above,  and  founded  the  stately 
monastery  of  Reinhardtsbrunn  on  the  site  of  the  potter's 


A    nOME   IN   THE   THURINGIAN   FOREST.  221 

humble  cottage.  This  was  in  the  year  1089,  according  to 
the  chronicles,  but  more  probably  in  1098.  A  few  years 
afterwards,  Ludwig  the  Leaper  became  a  monk,  and 
remained  in  the  monastery  until  his  death,  in  1123. 

The  place  was  completely  ransacked  and  destroyed 
during  the  BauernJcrieg,  or  Peasants'  War,  and  remained 
a  ruin  until  the  accession  of  Ernest  I.  of  Coburg  (father 
of  the  present  Duke)  to  the  sovereignty  of  Saxe-Gotha. 
This  prince  removed  the  tottei-ing  walls  of  the  old  monas- 
tery and  built  a  summer  palace  on  the  foundations.  The 
material  used  was  a  warm  gray  sandstone,  found  in  the  neigh- 
boring mountain,  and  the  style  that  domestic  Gothic  which 
harmonizes  so  exquisitely  with  the  forms  of  a  Northern 
landscape.  The  old  Duke  also  restored  the  monkish  fish- 
ponds, and  completely  remodelled  the  gardens,  woods,  and 
meadows,  but  with  a  sparing  and  beautifying,  not  a  des- 
troying hand.  In  this  respect,  his  taste  was  admirable. 
He  appreciated  scenery  with  the  intuition  of  an  artist,  and 
knew  where  to  prune,  and  where  to  plant,  so  as  to  attain 
that  ideal  grace  and  loveliness  which  Nature,  unassisted, 
can  never  reach. 

There  ought  to  be  some  better  name  for  this  faculty 
and  its  exercise.  "  Landscape  gardening"  is  both  incon- 
gruous and  incomplete.  The  German  expression,  "Art- 
gardener,"  is  better ;  but  the  idea  of  a  garden  is  too  limited, 
when  the  artist's  plan  embraces  the  landscape  to  its  furthest 
horizon.  In  his  eyes,  all  its  features  are,  to  a  certain 
extent,  plastic.  That  which  he  cannot  change  or  remove, 
he  can  throw  into  perspective,  or  so  conceal  by  the  inter- 
vention of  other  forms,  that  its  individual  ugliness   shall 


222  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

become  a  component  part  of  the  general  beauty.  To  con- 
tracted spaces  he  can  impart  a  character  of  expansion; 
dead  levels  he  breaks  by  picturesque  interruptions ;  he 
works  not  alone  for  the  eye,  but  excites  the  fancy  by  stolen 
glimpses  which  hint  at  some  concealed  charm.  He  collects 
the  wandering  rills,  and  opens  a  mirrored  under-sky,  to 
brighten  the  too  uniform  green  ;  he  arranges  his  trees  with 
regard  to  their  forms  and  tints,  to  the  lights  they  catch 
and  the  shadows  they  cast,  until  they  stand  as  far  in 
beauty  above  the  uncultured  woods  as  the  pediment-groups 
of  Grecian  temples  are  above  a  group  of  ordinary  men. 
He  sees,  like  the  sculptor,  the  suggestions  of  Nature,  and 
pilfers  the  graces  of  a  hundred  forms  to  blend  them 
harmoniously  in  one  ideal.  Should  not  this  Earth-sculp- 
ture have  its  place  among  the  Fine  Arts  ? 

The  park,  or  garden-park,  of  Reinhardtsbrunn  (for  it  is 
neither  alone,  but  a  combination  of  the  two)  is  an  almost 
perfect  illustration  of  the  art.  The  lower  ridges  of  the 
Querberg  and  Reinhardtsberg,  thrust  out  at  light  angles  to 
the  axis  of  the  Thtlringian  Forest,  inclose  it  on  either  side, 
and  the  lofty  Abbot's  Mountain,  a  part  of  the  main  chain, 
fills  up  the  intervening  space.  Northward,  the  brook,  fed 
by  its  ponds,  flows  toward  the  plain  through  a  narrow, 
falling  glen.  The  castle,  with  its  picturesque  confusion  of 
towers,  Gothic  gables,  and  quaint  out-buildings,  stands 
near  the  foot  of  Reinhardtsberg,  on  an  irregular,  natural 
terrace,  sloping  toward  the  water  on  two  sides.  The  land- 
scape visible  therefrom  has  a  length  of  two  miles  and  a 
half,  with  an  average  breadth  of  three-quarters  of  a  mile. 
Though  not  wholly  included  in  the  park,  it  is  subjected  to 


A   HOME   IX  THE  THUEINGIAN   FOBEST.  223 

the  artist's  will,  to  the  very  summits  of  the  mountains,  and 
the  transitions  from  fir-forest  and  meadow  to  the  shelvy 
terraces  of  roses  and  verbenas,  from  evergreen  to  decidu- 
ous trees,  from  ivied  oastle  and  gravelled  avenues  to  the 
seclusion  of  bowery  foot-paths  and  the  sun-sprinkled 
shade  of  the  woods,  ai'e  so  skilfully  managed  that  you  fail 
to  distinguish  the  boundaries.  You  see  but  one  rich, 
harmonious,  many-featured,  enchanting  picture. 

In  the  forms  and  colors  of  the  trees,  and  their  disposition 
with  regard  to  each  other  and  to  the  character  of  their 
background,  we  detect  that  art  which  never  appears  as  art 
— ^never  can  offend,  because  it  is  developed  through  the 
ordinary  processes  of  Nature.  Plant  a  tree,  and  it  will 
take,  of  itself,  its  own  characteristic  form.  Nature,  how- 
ever, can  simply  produce  ;  she  cannot  combine  and  arrange. 
She  will  not  plant  yonder  weeping-ash  on  the  slope,  so  that 
its  outer  boughs  shall  just  touch  the  water :  she  will  not 
rear  those  purple  beeches  to  relieve  the  huge  green  masses 
of  the  ancient  lindens,  nor  give  the  silver  birch  an  airy 
lightness  and  distinctness  by  a  background  of  pine.  She 
plants  weeds  among  the  flowers  and  ripple-grass  in  the 
turf,  muffles  the  brook  with  autumn  leaves,  and  fills  the 
pond  ^vith  sickly  water-mosses. 

Here  there  is  nothing  of  that.  She  is  kept  clean  and 
healthy  by  a  regimen  which  simply  aims  at  developing  her 
highest  beauty.  There  seems  to  be,  verily,  a  joyous  con- 
sciousness thereof  in  the  trees  and  flowers.  Nowhere 
stunted,  nowhere  deformed,  they  give  to  the  summer  the 
deepest  tints,  the  richest  undulations  of  foliage.  The  sun- 
beams touch  them  with  a  softer  splendor,  and  their  shadows 


224  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

have  a  clearer  purple  or  violet  than  elsewhere.  In  the  late 
afternoon,  when  golden  breaks  of  light  stream  down  the 
long  meadows,  between  the  cloudlike  gloom  of  the  forests, 
turning  the  turf  to  fiery  velvet,  snyting  the  lakes  and  the 
red-and- white  flag  on  the  floating  skifi";  when  the  banks 
of  flowers  burn  with  blinding  color,  and  the  venerable  firs 
of  the  Reinhardtsberg  take  the  hue  of  bronze,  and  the 
wooded  glen  beyond  swims  in  hazy  shadow,  it  is  the  land- 
scape of  a  brighter  planet,  a  transfigured  earth. 

At  the  bottom  of  the  valley,  where  it  contracts  into  the 
glen,  there  is  a  spacious  inn,  which  has  a  wide  renown  for 
its  good  though  somewhat  expensive  cheer.  At  all  hours  of 
the  day,  unless  the  rain  is  unusually  hard,  the  out-door  tables 
and  benches,  under  the  shelter  of  the  firs,  are  frequented 
by  visitors  from  all  parts  of  the  Thtiringian  Forest.  We 
sometimes  go  thither  for  tea,  and  find  it  difiicult  to  obtain 
places  among  the  crowd.  The  fat  waiter,  and  his  two 
juvenile  assistants,  go  back  and  forth  with  empty  or  foam- 
ing beer-glasses,  sausages,  black  bread,  raw  ham,  fermented 
cheese,  cucumbers,  salted  sardines,  or  trout  and  potatoes. 
The  German  sujiper  usually  consists  of  some  of  these 
articles,  each  of  which  has  a  positive  flavor.  The  cheese, 
even  in  the  open  air,  must  frequently  be  covered  with  a 
glass  bell,  on  account  of  its  powerful  odor  of  decomposi- 
tion. It  seems  to  improve  in  digestible  quality,  however, 
in  proportion  as  it  becomes  insuiFerable  to  the  nostrils. 
Beer  is  the  unvarying  masculine  beverage.  The  ladies 
di'ink  tea,  or  a  mixture  of  beer,  water,  sugar,  and  black 
bread,  which  is  called  "  music  /"  It  is  a  very  weak  har- 
mony indeed. 


A   HOME   IN  THE  THURINGIAN   FOREST.  225 

It  is  singular  that,  with  their  fondness  for  the  open  air, 
the  Germans  should  have  such  a  dread  of  "  draughts,"  in 
houses  and  railway-carriages.  Doors  and  windows  are 
closed  as  soon  as  there  is  a  motion  in  the  air.  On  entering 
a  shop,  on  a  warm  day,  you  are  generally  told  "Pray, 
put  your  hat  on :  you  are  warm."  Nay,  this  goes  so  far 
that  by  many  intelligent  persons  (hereabouts  at  least)  colds 
are  considered  contagious.  Possibly,  one  cause  of  such  a 
physical  sensitiveness  is  the  difference  of  temperature  be- 
tween the  sun  and  shade,  which  is  more  marked  in  a  North- 
ern latitude.  Prof.  Bergfalk,  of  Upsala,  told  me  that 
during  his  first  summer  in  America  he  lived  in  great  dread 
of  the  draughts  to  which  he  was  exposed,  until  he  found 
that  his  health  did  not  suffer.  On  returning  to  Sweden, 
however,  he  resumed  his  former  sensitiveness. 

— It  is  impossible  to  write  more  this  evening,  while  the 
sunset  beckons  from  the  mountains, — esj^ecially  when  my 
household,  bonneted  and  shawled,  is  beckoning  also.  I  am 
not  hard  to  move,  for  I  prefer  the  outer  to  the  inner  air, 
the  reality  to  the  description.  So,  here  is  the  last  ink  I 
shall  shed  to-day.  Rest,  you  weary  steel,  that  are  not 
always  mightier  than  the  sword ! 


4. — ^Thb  First  Germait  Shooting- Match. 

July  12,  1861. 
Here  is  already  a  considerable  gap  in  my  journal,  and 
the  reader,  referring  to  his  own  experience,  may  suspect 
that  my  undertaking  is  beginning  to  flag.      Only  the  most 

10* 


226  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

ultra-methodical  minds  are  capable  of  noting  down  their 
"  thoughts,  feelings,  &c."  (as  the  school-girls  say)  day  after 
day,  whether  or  no  there  is  anything  to  note.  For  my 
part,  having  so  many  a  dies  non  to  record,  I  have  never 
been  able  to  hold  out  longer  than  two  months,  except  upon 
my  journeys  abroad.  I  was  recently  very  much  amused  at 
finding,  among  some  old  papers,  a  journal  conscientiously 
commenced  at  the  age  of  ten,  to  be  continued  thenceforth 
indefinitely  ;  but  on  the  eighth  day  the  entry  stood — "  wea- 
ther cloudy,  and  I  find  it  impossible  to  keep  a  journal !" 

After  all,  I  presume  the  true  explanation  is,  that  a  jour- 
nal, to  be  really  worth  anything  to  the  writer  thereof,  must 
be  a  confessional  in  the  broadest  sense  of  the  word — a  record 
of  weakness  and  error,  as  well  as  of  good  deeds  or  good 
resolutions.  Everybody  agrees  that  the  true  history  of  one 
life  would  be  worth  all  the  romances  ever  written,  yet  no- 
body writes  the  whole  truth,  even  for  his  own  eyes,  lest 
other  eyes  should  accidentally  get  sight  of  it.  In  Stifter's 
story  of  the  "  Fortress  of  Fools,"  the  heads  of  the  family, 
in  a  direct  line,  write  their  own  secret  biography,  which 
each  one  places  in  a  rock-hewn  chamber,  Avhereto  he  only 
possesses  the  key — which,  with  the  obligation  to  continue 
the  history,  he  transmits  to  his  son.  The  result  is,  in  the 
course  of  a  few  centuries,  a  race  of  madmen.  There  are 
few  eyes  steady  enough  to  look  on  the  absolute  Truth — few 
hands  bold  enough  to  lift  the  last  veil  from  the  image  in  the 
temple  of  Safe. 

I,  however,  whose  journal  is  personal  only  so  far  as  I  am 
connected  ^vith  scenes  and  subjects  which  may  interest  my 
friendly  readers,  am  not  troubled  by  these  considerations. 


A    HOME  IX  THE  THURINGIAN  FOREST.  227 

The  simple  fact  is,  we  have  all  been  absent  for  the  past  four 
days,  attending  a  Pan-Germanic  festival  in  the  neighboring 
city.  The  great  popular  movement  which  now  prevails, 
from  the  Alps  to  the  Baltic,  has  for  its  basis  the  idea  of 
National  Unity.  It  is  singular  to  note  how  unsteadily  the 
political  balance  is  held  in  the  hands  of  nations.  As  the 
scale  rises  in  one  hemisphere,  it  sinks  in  the  other.  Here, 
where  in  spite  of  the  jealousies,  the  hostilities  even,  of  a 
thousand  years,  in  spite  of  differences  of  character,  cus- 
toms, dialects,  ideas,  institutions,  and  creeds,  there  is  an 
earnest  desire  to  kindle  a  spirit  of  patriotism  which  shall 
rise  above  all  narrower  distinctions,  and  lay  the  foundation 
of  one  great  and  homogeneous  empire :  while,  across  the 
Atlantic,  the  same  principle  is  violently  assailed,  and  the 
Nation's  blood  and  treasure  must  be  spent  to  prove  that 
she  is  a  nation,  in  fact.  The  miserable  divisions  from  which 
Italy  is  being  healed,  which  Germany  is  leaving  behind  her 
by  sounder  and  safer  paths  than  she  chose  in  '48,  which 
even  the  Slavic  and  Scandinavian  races  are  seeking  to  avoid, 
are  now  racking  our  political  frame.  Is  this  a  disease  from 
which  our  land  can  only  be  freed,  by  communicating  it  to 
another  ? 

Gotha  had  been  excited,  for  weeks  in  advance,  by  the 
anticipation  of  the  Convention  of  German  Riflemen,  which 
was  appointed  to  meet  on  the  8th.  As  this  was  the  first 
convention  of  the  kind  which  embraced  all  Germany,  and 
had  therefore  a  political  significance,  there  was  much  fear 
that  the  little  city  would  not  be  able  to  hold  all  her  guests. 
She  resolved,  at  least,  that  they  should  be  worthily  enter- 
tained, and  her  citizens  (with  the  exception  of  the  nobility, 


228  AT   HOME    AND    ABKOAD. 

who,  for  the  most  part,  stood  sullenly  aloof,)  spared  neither 
pains  nor  expense.  Hundreds  of  houses  were  opened  for 
the  strangers  ;  flags  were  made,  wreaths  woven,  triumphal 
arches  built,  and  prizes,  by  scores,  contributed  for  the  vic- 
tors. Silver  goblets  came  from  the  Duke  and  Duchess,  the 
Crown  Prince  and  Princess  of  Prussia,  Prince  Albert,  and 
the  Free  Cities ;  rifles  and  revolvers ;  sets  of  silver  spoons, 
cases  of  wine,  gold  watches,  embroidered  gun-belts  and 
game-bags,  shoes,  meerschaum  pipes,  cigars,  portfolios, 
cushions,  books  and  statuettes ;  and  even  the  children's 
schools  in  the  neighborhood  brought  together  their  pfeu' 
nings  to  buy  some  trifle  which  should  represent  their  inter- 
est in  the  festival. 

It  was  pleasant  to  witness  this  universal  sympathy  with 
a  movement  which,  however  indirect  its  political  influence 
might  be,  was  at  least  directly  attacked  by  the  Reactionary 
Party,  and  therefore,  to  that  extent,  a  political  expression. 
I  rejoiced  with  my  German  friends,  not  only  for  the  sake 
of  Germany,  but  because  the  least  progress  anywhere  helps 
Progress  everywhere.  During  the  whole  of  last  week  the 
weather  was  watched  with  great  anxiety,  and  every  addi- 
tional shower  was  welcomed,  since  it  lessened  the  proba- 
bility of  continued  rain,  in  spite  of  the  Seven  Sleepers. 
Even  when  Sunday  came,  and  dark  thunder-clouds,  rising 
in  the  West,  took  their  way  to  the  Thtiringian  Forest  or  the 
distant  Hartz,  they  said  "  let  it  rain  I"  The  companies  of 
riflemen  who  were  to  arrive  would  have  a  wet  reception,  it 
was  true,  but  better  that  than  have  the  grand  procession  on 
the  morrow  spoiled  by  a  storm. 

As  this  procession  was  to  be  organized  at  seven  in  the 


A   HOME   IN  THE  THURINGIAK   FOREST.  229 

morning,  we  drove  over  to  Gotha  in  the  afternoon,  during 
an  interregnum  of  sunshine  between  two  storms.  The  trees 
of  Reinhardtsbrunn  sparkled  with  unshed  rain-drops ;  the 
Horsel  Mountain  (the  home  of  the  minstrel  Tannhauser) 
stood  out,  bare  and  yellow  as  a  mountain  of  Palestine  against 
the  dark  sky ;  and  in  the  village  of  Wahlwinkel  the  wife- 
stork,  standing  up  in  her  nest,  was  drying  her  wet  wings  in 
the  sun.  Ah !  here  is  at  once  the  entrance  to  another 
digression  :  but  no  !  I  will  avoid  the  by-path,  pastoral  and 
pleasant  though  it  be,  and  follow  the  highway  of  my  nar- 
rative.    I  will  return  to  the  storks  to-morrow. 

From  afar,  over  the  trees,  the  old  banner  of  the  German 
Empire — black,  red,  and  gold,  in  horizontal  bars — waved  a 
welcome.  It  is  not  ten  years  since  these  colors  were  pro- 
hibited in  almost  every  part  of  Germany.  As  we  entered 
the  suburbs,  the  colors  of  Saxony  (green  and  white) 
and  Thviringia  (red  and  white)  floated  from  every  house, 
subordinate,  however,  to  the  all-embracing  national  flag. 
The  streets  leading  to  the  railroad-station,  whence  came 
the  sound  of  music,  were  crowded  with  riflemen,  hurrying 
down  to  welcome  expected  corps  from  abroad.  On  reach- 
ing our  family  home,  we  found  the  gentlemen  sporting 
badges  of  white  satin,  and  Fraulein  Hildegarde  trying  on 
her  wreath  of  oak-leaves  before  the  looking-glass.  She  was 
one  of  a  hundred  maidens  who,  thus  crowned,  in  white 
dresses,  with  scarfs  of  red,  black,  and  gold,  were  to  take 
part  in  the  procession. 

Presently  we  hear  the  yelling  of  two  locomotives,  which 
come  slowly  up  the  grade  from  the  direction  of  Weimar, 
drawing  twelve  cars.     We  make  for  an  arbor,  overlooking 


230  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

the  main  avenue,  up  which  the  strangers  must  march. 
Trumpets  blow,  the  people  rush  past,  the  thunders  rattle, 
out  goes  the  sunshine  and  down  comes  the  rain !  We  hud- 
dle together  in  the  leafy  house,  which  affords  but  slight 
protection  against  the  driving  sheets  of  water.  But  in  half 
an  hour  the  sun  follows,  and  a  double  rainbow,  complete 
and  magnificent,  arches  above  the  Seeberg.  The  trumpets 
blow  again,  the  target-men  in  scarlet  caps  and  shirts  tramp 
by  with  the  baggage,  the  hacks,  garlanded  with  flowers, 
follow,  and  then  the  riflemen  with  their  escort,  cheerfully 
keeping  step  on  the  muddy  road.  The  banners  and  the 
crowds  of  spectators  are  their  only  welcome.  There  is  no 
shouting — no  waving  of  hats.  The  Germans  have  not  yet 
learned  that.  They  have  been  kept  silent  so  long  that  they 
have  not  the  full  use  of  their  voices. 

In  the  morning,  we  set  out  betimes  for  the  market-square 
in  the  centre  of  the  city,  where  the  procession  was  to  form. 
I  had  the  honor  of  escorting  Hildegarde,  in  her  oak-wreath 
and  scarf.  From  under  the  linden  boughs  of  the  park  two 
other  German  maidens  sprang  out  to  meet  us,  and  the  three 
formed  a  vanguard,  before  which  the  crowd  fell  back  and 
made  us  a  passage.  The  market-square  lies  on  the  northern 
Bide  of  the  steep  hill,  crowned  by  the  castle  of  Friedenstein. 
Approaching  it  from  the  top,  we  looked  down,  as  into  an 
arena,  filled  with  waving  flags  and  moving  masses  of  men, 
and  spi'inkled  all  over  with  glittering  points  of  color.  The 
gray  old  council-hall,  in  the  centre,  thrust  a  flag  from  every 
window,  and  shook  its  pendant  wreaths  of  oak-leaves  in  the 
wind.  The  fountain  was  hidden  in  a  pyramid  of  birch- 
boughs,  and  daring  young  peasants  clung  to  every  "  coign 


A   HOME   IN  THE  THURINGIAN  FOREST.  231 

of  vantage"  offered  by  its  layers  of  basins.  In  the  middle 
of  an  open  space,  kept  clear  by  gensd'armes,  the  chief 
marshal  was  riding  to  and  fro,  while  his  aids  stationed  the 
different  deputations  of  riflemen  at  their  posts,  ready  to 
fall  in  at  the  proper  time.  The  crowd,  thousands  in  num- 
ber, looked  on  in  silence. 

"We  descended  into  the  square,  broke  through  the  guard- 
ed space,  and  took  leave  of  our  maidens  at  the  door  of  the 
council-hall,  where  ninety-seven  others  were  waiting  for 
them.  On  all  sides  waved  the  flags  of  the  various  German 
States — the  black  and  white  of  Prussia ;  blue  and  silver  of 
Bavaria ;  red  and  yellow  of  Baden ;  fortress  in  a  red  field, 
of  Hamburg ;  the  Saxon  and  Thflringian  colors  ;  the  tri- 
color of  Schleswig-Holstein ;  the  cross  of  Switzerland — and, 
over  all,  the  symbol  of  strength  and  unity,  the  red,  black, 
and  gold.  What  was  my  delight,  at  seeing  from  a  corner 
of  the  square,  the  stars  and  stripes  of  America ! — singu- 
larly enough,  the  only  foreign  power  thus  represented. 
Every  house  was  hung  with  garlands — principally  of  the 
German  oak,  looped  up  with  knots  of  roses,  and  disposed  in 
an  infinite  variety  of  forms,  but  in  every  instance  with  excel- 
lent taste.    The  general  effect  was  exceedingly  beautiful. 

The  streets  through  which  the  procession  was  to  pass, 
were  similarly  decorated.  Occasionally  the  Avreaths  were 
of  fir,  with  gilded  cones  as  pendants,  or  with  rosettes  of 
forget-me-nots  and  harebells.  Even  in  these  details  there 
was  a  national  significance.  You  may  be  sure,  whenever  a 
German  is  sufficiently  advanced  to  express  himself  by 
means  of  outward  symbols,  he  always  puts  an  Idea  behind 
them. 


232  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

We  follo-wed  the  path  o'f  the  procession  to  the  outskirts 
of  the  city,  where,  in  the  house  of  the  architect  S.,  hospi- 
table windows  had  been  offered  to  us.  I  continued  my 
walk  to  the  shooting-hall  and  target-stands,  around  which 
a  court  of  show-booths  had  already  sprung  up.  There  was 
a  menagerie,  in  front  of  which,  as  an  attractive  sign,  a  live 
pelican  was  perched  on  a  high  post.  I  did  not  wonder 
that  the  bird  yawned  terribly.  There  was  also  an  "Art- 
Cabinet,"  with  "  Anatomical  Specimens" — the  "  Harbor  of 
Fortune,"  where  you  either  won  a  penny  plaything  by 
firing  off  a  pop-gun,  or  lost  your  penny — "  Live  Bushmen 
from  Africa,"  and  two  carrousels,  or  flying-horses  for 
children.  In  s^Dite  of  my  satin  badge,  I  was  refused  admit- 
tance into  the  shooting-grounds  before  the  arrival  of  the 
procession,  and  contented  myself  with  admiring  the  tri- 
umphal entrance,  the  work  of  my  friends  S.  and  S.  The 
square  gateway  was  composed  of  the  shields  of  German 
States,  set  in  frames  of  fir-twigs,  while  on  either  side  two 
lofty  masts,  spirally  wreathed  to  the  summit,  lifted  high  in 
air  their  crowns  of  banners.  From  the  centre  of  the  arch 
floated  the  colors  of  the  German  empire.  Really,  I  could 
find  no  fault  with  the  structure.  From  end  to  end  it  was 
arranged  with  admirable  taste,  and  the  moral  I  drew  there- 
from was  this :  "  why  cannot  our  officials  or  committees, 
on  such  occasions,  employ  artists  and  architects  as  well  ? 
Why  can't  we  put  round  men  into  round  holes  ?" 

Boom  !  went  the  cannon  from  the  castle,  announcing 
that  the  procession  had  started.  All  the  church-bells  began 
to  chime,  a  circumstance  whereat  the  few  Reactionists  in 
Gotha  were  deeply  shocked.    'J'he  road  was  already  lined 


A   HOME   IN   THE   THUXIINGIAN  FOREST.  233 

with  expectant  crowds,  who  filled  the  banks  on  either  side, 
while  the  central  space  was  kept  clear  by  mounted  gens- 
d'arraes.  On  my  return  to  our  friends  at  the  window  I 
met  the  Duke,  already  on  his  way  to  the  shooting-ground. 
He  was  driving  a  span  of  dun-colored  horses,  with  black 
manes  and  tails,  and  with  such  a  skilful  hand  that  I  have  no 
doubt  many  of  the  strangers  supposed  he  was  the  coach- 
man. I  took  oflf  my  hat  to  the  gay,  clear-eyed,  galliard 
Prince,  whom  I  had  recently  had  occasion  to  know  and  to 
honor,  as  a  man.  For  him,  it  was  a  well-deserved  day  of 
triumph. 

Next  to  the  house  of  our  friend  S.  was  another  American 
flag  of  silk,  floating  from  a  wreathed  staif.  I  also  took  off 
my  hat  as  I  passed  it.  Everybody  knew  it,  and  looked 
upon  it  with  a  friendly  eye.  Suppose  it  had  been  the  Vir- 
ginia coat-of-arms  or  even  the  New  York  "  Excelsior  ?  " 
It  would  probably  have  been  torn  down  as  an  abortion — a 
counterfeit  of  nationality — even  granting  that  any  person 
had  known  what  it  meant.  State  pride !  State  fealty  para- 
mount !  what  Avicked  nonsense  passes  for  wisdom  in  some 
parts  of  our  favored  Republic!  However,  there  is  not 
much  likelihood  that  the  starveling  Palmetto  itself  would 
have  been  recognized,  for  in  these  inland  European  cities 
the  people  know  but  little  about  national  symbols.  In  the 
garden  opposite  our  window  there  was  a  banner  of  Schles- 
wig-Holstein  (red,  blue  and  white,  horizontal),  which  the 
Turners — who  ought  to  have  known  better — were  on  the 
point  of  tearing  down,  supposing  it  to  be  that  of  France ! 

A  blast  of  trumpets — a  stretching  of  the  necks  of  the 
crowd — an  increasing  murmur,  and  the  procession  comes ! 


234  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

It  is  a  double  display,  for  the  Turners  of  Thiiringia  hold 
their  convention  in  Gotha  at  the  same  time,  and  have 
joined  their  forces  to  those  of  the  riflemen.  The  former 
first  appear,  preceded  by  music,  and  graced  by  the  pre- 
sence of  a  second  hundred  of  maidens  in  white,  with 
wreaths  of  white  flowers  and  rose-colored  scarfs.  Our 
friend  E,,  as  Grand  Marshal,  rides  in  advance,  and  his  baton 
bends  us  a  solemn  greeting.  Then  come  the  Turners.  Ah  ! 
here  is  some  sign  of  life,  but  not  from  the  spectators. 
They  are  simply  silent  and  curious.  The  various  deputa- 
tions greet  our  ladies  with  genuine  cheers ;  mild,  indeed, 
but  well  meant.  Handkerchiefs  flourish  acknowledgment. 
Students  in  velvet  caps  wave  their  swords,  banners  dip, 
and  the  trumpets  blow  ^fanfaron^  as  they  pass.  Hurrah  ! 
hurrah  !  I  should  like  to  shout,  but  there  is  no  one  to  join 
me.  Young,  gallant  fellows,  in  gray  linen,  they  can  do 
something  else  besides  spring  over  bars  and  climb  ladders, 
hand  over  hand. 

M.  counts  the  maidens,  who  seem  to  be  portioned  off  as 
angelic  escorts  to  the  standard-bearers,  to  the  hundredth. 
Now  come  the  riflemen !  The  band  plays  "  Schleswig- 
Holstein,  sea-surrounded,"  as  they  pass  the  tri-colored  flag. 
I  wish  they  knew  the  Star-Spangled  Banner,  but  they 
don't.  Here  is  Hildegarde,  in  the  van,  shaking  her  bou- 
quet at  our  window.  The  tall  brother  follows,  in  a  white 
sash.  Then,  company  after  company  of  riflemen,  in  plain 
gray  or  blue  fatigue  uniform,  but  preceded  by  officers  in 
astonishing  costume.  Who  are  these  in  green  and  gold, 
with  such  plumed  chapeaux,  such  excessive  epaulets,  such 
length  of  sword  ?      Generals  ?  Field-Marshals  ?  you  ask. 


A    HOME   IN   THE   THURINGIAN    FOREST.  235 

By  no  means,  ray  friend :  they  are  not  even  soldiers.  It  is 
some  relief  to  know  that  the  vanity  of  seeing  oneself  in 
"  full  regimentals  "  is  not  confined  to  our  militia  officers  at 
home.  Some  of  the  banners,  however,  tattered  and  rid- 
dled in  former  wars,  were  genuine.  The  number  of  per- 
sons in  the  procession  is  certainly  "over  two  thousand,  and 
the  spectators  number  at  least  twenty  thousand.  It  is  not 
a  large  affair,  compared  with  some  of  our  political  gather- 
ings, but  in  point  of  order,  taste,  harmony,  and  effect,  I 
have  never  seen  it  surpassed. 

The  presence  of  the  two  hundred  maidens  was  decidedly 
the  most  pleasing  feature  of  the  di^lay — to  the  eye,  at 
least.  The  flowing  lines  of  the  white  robes,  the  soft  gleam 
of  the  colored  scarfs,  and  the  bright  flush  of  the  girlish 
faces,  wound  like  a  thread  of  grace  and  beauty  through 
the  long  files  of  the  men.  Here,  again,  one  recognizes  the 
artistic  sense,  if  not  the  direct  arrangement  of  an  artist. 

Another  lesson  of  the  festival  was  afforded  by  the  per- 
fect order  preserved  by  the  spectators,  thousands  of  whom 
■were  peasants  from  the  surrounding  country.  The  very 
freedom  which  was  allowed  was  in  itself  a  guarantee  of 
order — a  fact  which  the  Continental  governments  are  slow 
to  learn. 

But — ^here  is  the  end  of  the  procession,  and  of  to-day's 
chapter. 


236  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 


5. — The  Same,  Continued. 

July  13,  1861. 
First — To  resume  the  interrupted  narrative  : — 
After  the  procession  had  passed,  we  descended  from  our 
windows  and  followed  in  the  rear,  designing  to  enter  the 
inclosure  in  season  to  hear  the  Duke's  address  of  welcome, 
and  the  song,  "  The  German  Tri-color,"  to  which  he  had 
himself  composed  the  music.  But,  on  reaching  the  gate- 
way, we  were  informed,  "  Ladies  cannot  be  admitted  at 
present."  This  portion  of  the  party,  supposing  it  to  be  a 
precautionary  measure,  on  account  of  the  crowd,  returned, 
and  I  entered  in  company  with  a  Russian  relative.  To  my 
surprise,  there  was  ample  space  within,  and  the  prohibition 
was  a  gratuitous  rudeness.  By  this  time  the  address  had 
been  delivered,  and  the  strains  of  the  song  were  swallowed 
up  in  the  noise  of  the  multitude. 

The  Duke's  speech  occupied  about  four  minutes  in  deli- 
very. I  know  some  persons  who,  under  similar  circum- 
stances, would  not  have  let  us  off  under  three-quarters  of 
an  hour.  After  referring  to  that  new  direction  of  the 
popular  ideas  which  had  called  forth  the  festival,  he  said, 
in  a  firm,  decided  tone :  "  Strength  and  skill  shall  to-day 
unite  in  emulation  for  prizes,  in  order  that  the  individual, 
elevated  by  the  consciousness  of  his  own  value,  may  become 
more  valuable  to  the  entire  people.  The  chief  aim  of  these 
mutual  endeavors  should  be  the  protection  of  the  great 
German  Fatherland,  and  the  preservation  of  its  honor. 
With  such  feclinirs  let  us  reach  to  one  another  the  fraternal 


A   HOME  IN  THE  THUEINGIAN  FOREST.  237 

hand!"  Many  of  the  riflemen  from  abroad,  who  were 
accustomed  to  see  their  own  rulers  surrounded  by  the  most 
rigid  ceremonials,  were  astonished  at  the  manly  simplicity 
for  which  Ernest  11.  is  distinguished.  It  was  amusing  to 
hear  their  remarks :  "  Why,  he  took  off  his  hat  to  us !'"" 
"  He  wears  a  plain  citizen's  dress — not  even  a  star  on  his 
breast !"     "  Ah,  that's  the  right  sort  of  a  Prince  I" 

Two  riflemen  who  were  quartei-ed  in  our  residence  were 
loud  in  their  expressions  of  delight.  "  Why,"  said  one  of 
them,  "  it's  really  comical  to  see  your  Duke  !"  "  Why  so  ?" 
I  asked — not  knowing  that  "  comical,"  in  his  dialect,  ex- 
pressed the  highest  admiration.  "  You  see,"  he  said,  "  I 
once  had  the  honor  of  standing  before  our  King.  Ah,  ha ! 
bow  down,  and  be  silent :  don't  you  recognize  the  divi- 
nity ?  But  here — he's  a  man,  like  ourselves — yes,  actually 
a  human  being !  He  walks,  and  talks,  and  lets  the  sun 
shine  without  his  permission.  Why,  there  was  a  gentleman 
in  a  hunting-coat  with  him,  who  joked  and  clapped  him  on 
the  shoulder,  and  he  took  it  all  like  a  bon  camarade.''''  We 
were  obliged  to  laugh  at  this  description  of  our  worthy 
B.,  whose  connexion  with  us  the  speaker  did  not  guess. 

The  shooting,  which  was  to  continue  four  days,  imme- 
diately commenced.  There  were  thirteen  hundi-ed  rifle- 
men in  all,  and  but  twenty  targets,  and  the  pressure  for 
a  chance  was  very  great.  Tlie  shooting-stand  was  a  spa- 
cious pavilion,  erected  for  the  purpose,  on  the  western 
side  of  which  were  twenty  stalls,  numbered  to  correspond 
with  the  targets.  The  latter  were  also  named,  in  the  order 
of  rank  ;  the  first,  to  which  the  highest  prizes  were  attached, 
being  "  Germany,"  the  second  "  Duke  Ernest,''  the  tliird 


238  AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

"  Thtiringia,"  and  the  fourth  "  Schleswig-Holstein."  After- 
wards came  the  German  rivers,  and  then  the  representative 
men,  among  whom  Hmnboldt,  Fichte,  and  Arndt  had  a 
place.  The  distance  was  four  hundred  feet  for  ten  of  the 
targets,  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  for  the  remaining 
ten.  The  manner  of  shooting  was  divided  into  three 
classes,  arranged  so  that  all  should  apply  to  both  the  dis- 
tances :  First,  shooting  "  with  free  hand,"  without  rest  or 
aid  of  any  kind;  second,  with  the  use  of  the  diopter, 
or  sight-gauge ;  and  lastly,  with  rests.  These  technical 
arrangements  were  a  great  worry  to  the  committee,  who 
were  obliged  to  take  into  consideration  such  a  variety  of 
habits  and  preferences  among  the  riflemen.  It  must  be 
admitted,  however,  that  they  performed  their  work  with 
great  tact,  and  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  guests. 

The  cracking  of  rifles  became  more  and  more  frequent, 
and  soon  rattled,  like  scattering  volleys,  from  one  end  of 
the  pavilion  to  the  other.  I  was  interested  in  noticing 
the  arrangement  of  the  targets.  Each  was  double,  and 
turned  on  a  pivot  midway  between  the  two,  so  that  when 
one  was  up  the  other  was  down,  and  concealed  from  sight 
in  a  pit,  in  which  the  attendant  sat.  His  duty  was,  when- 
ever a  shot  was  fired,  to  turn  the  axle,  thus  bringing  the 
target  down  to  note  the  shot,  while  he  elevated  the  other 
for  a  fresh  one.  The  shots  were  carefully  registered,  and 
the  record  sent  back  to  the  pavilion  from  time  to  time,  in 
a  bag  attached  to  a  travelling  rope.  It  is  a  lucky  circum- 
stance that  none  of  the  attendants  were  shot  duiing  the 
festival.  Once,  indeed,  there  was  a  slight  alarm.  One  of 
the  targets  having  failed  to  revolve,  the  firing  was  sus- 


A    HOME   IN    THE    THURINGIAN   FOEEST.  239 

pended,  and  the  pit  examined,  when  the  man  was  found 
lying  fast  asleep  at  the  bottom  !  It  is  no  less  an  illustra- 
tion of  the  care  and  method  native  to  the  German  charac- 
ter, that  although  thirty-five  thousand  shots,  in  all,  were 
fired,  no  accident  of  any  kind  occurred. 

I  was  invited  to  take  part  in  the  trial,  but  as  my  rifle- 
practice  is  very  limited,  and  I  was  the  only  representative 
of  a  country  famous  for  sharp-shooters,  I  judged  that  I 
could  best  preserve  our  reputation  by  declining,  I  had  an 
opportunity  of  doing  some  service,  nevertheless,  by  explain- 
ing the  character  of  the  rebellion  against  the  Federal  author- 
ity, for  there  was  no  lack  of  eager  questioners  and  sympa- 
thetic listeners. 

Wandering  about  through  the  crowd,  I  fell  in  with  Dr. 
Petermann,  the  geographer,  who  had  left  his  maps  to  swell 
the  crowd  of  those  who  wish  to  abrogate  geographical  dis. 
tinctions.  His  first  question,  also,  was  in  relation  to  our 
American  difficulty.  I  was  midway  in  a  statement  when 
we  were  joined  by  Gustav  Freytag,  the  author  of  "  Debit 
and  Credit,"  and  one  of  the  clearest  thinkers  in  Germany. 
"  What  do  the  people  of  the  Free  States  think  of  the  strug- 
gle ?"  he  asked.  "  They  see  now  that  it  is  inevitable,"  I 
answered.  "  Furthermore,  the  general  impression  is,  that 
it  nivbst  have  come,  som^  time,  and  better  now  than  later. 
VV^hen  I  left,  the  feeling  was  that  of  relief,  almost  of  satis- 
faction." Freytag  is  one  of  those  men  with  whom  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  talk,  as  well  as  to  hear.  His  brain  is  warm  and 
vital,  and  seeks  and  assimilates,  instead  of  repelling,  warmth 
in  others. 

In  another  group  I  found  the  artists  Jacobs  and  Gurlitt, 


240  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

with  both  of  whom  I  established  a  freemasonry  of  interest, 
in  our  reminiscences  of  Greece.  The  "  Temple  of  Gifts" 
attached  to  the  shooting-hall  had,  as  one  of  its  pediments, 
a  striking  pictm-e  from  the  pencil  of  the  former.  It  repre- 
sented Germany,  crowned  with  oak,  leaning  on  her  sword 
and  offering  a  wreath  to  the  victor.  The  other  pediment, 
by  Professor  Schneider,  illustrated  the  (just  now  more  than 
ever)  popular  legend  of  the  slumbering  Barbarossa.  The 
old  Emperor  sits  in  the  vaults  of  the  Kyffhauser,  with  his 
red  beard  grown  to  his  feet,  while  the  ravens  fly  around  his 
head.  So  long  as  they  fly,  the  enchantment  binds  him :  the 
hour  of  his  awaking  has  not  yet  come.  But,  on  either  side, 
in  the  lower  caverns,  the  mountain-gnomes  are  busy,  forg- 
ing swords,  casting  bullets  and  hammering  the  locks  of 
guns.  Barbarossa  symbolizes  the  German  Unity.  I  should 
have  represented  him,  however,  if  not  in  the  act  of  awak- 
ing, as  starting  in  his  sleep,  at  least.  To  complete  the  alle- 
gory, one  of  the  ravens  should  be  double-headed,  with  yel- 
low wings  (Austria) ;  the  second  wearing  the  papal  tiara 
and  with  the  keys  of  St.  Peter  in  his  claws ;  and  the  third, 
with  a  spiked  helmet,  representing,  not  Prussia,  but  that 
combination  of  pride  and  obstinacy  which  distinguishes  the 
mihtary  profession  in  Germany. 

By  this  time  other  pavilions  than  those  of  the  riflemen, 
were  crowded  with  visitors.  Beside  one  of  these  I  counted, 
at  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  thirteen  empty  beer-bar- 
rels !  The  Turners,  grouped  together  at  tables  under  the 
trees,  sang  in  chorus  ;  the  bands  played  ;  and  outside  of  the 
inclosure  you  could  hear  the  voices  of  showmen,  crying : 
"  This  way,  Gentlemen  :  here  is  the  wonderful  and  astonish- 


A   HOME   IN   THE   THURINGIAN   FOREST.  241 

ing,"  etc.  I  strayed  down  thitherward,  where  thousands  of 
peasants  were  looking  and  listening  with  open  moiiths  and 
eyes.  The  family  of  Bushmen  from  Africa  attracted  me, 
and  I  entered  the  booth.  A  young  fellow,  with  loud  voice 
and  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy,  performed  the  part  of  lecturer 
and  interpreter.  "  Here,  your  Lordships !"  he  cried,  "  I 
will  show  you  the  wild  people  of  Africa,  the  only  specimens 
in  Europe.  I  will  first  call  them.  You  cannot  understand 
their  language,  but  I  will  translate  for  you.  Tath  imang- 
koko  /"  "  Nya — a — a — a  /"  answered  a  voice  behind  the 
curtain.  "  Kilihu-ba-hingo  .'"  he  repeated  ;  "  that  means, 
I  told  them  to  come  out."  Thereupon  appeared  a  little  old 
woman,  with  a  yellow  skin,  and  an  immense  bushy  head  of 
hair,  followed  by  a  girl  of  eighteen,  ditto.  Bushmen  they 
were  not,  nor  Africans :  very  hkely  ordinary  gypsies,  dyed 
and  frizzled.  "  Marino-ha-hibhUe-hoo  !''"'  he  commanded  ; 
"  I  told  them  to  sing."  And  sing  they  did,  or  rather  scream. 
"  Your  lordships,"  said  the  showman,  who  looked  enough 
like  the  old  woman  to  be  her  son,  "  they  want  money  to 
buy  raw  flesh,  which  is  their  food,"  The  girl  took  up  a 
collection,  in  a  cocoa-nut  shell.  "  Your  lordships,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  if  you  have  cigars,  or  pipes,  or  tobacco,  they 
would  like  to  have  them."  The  peasants  winked  at  each 
other,  as  much  as  to  say  "  we've  had  enough  of  this,"  and 
left  in  a  body,  I  following. 

In  the  afternoon  the  Turners  had  a  gi-and  performance, 
followed  by  a  ball  at  the  Theatre,  in  the  evening.  As  all 
wearers  of  badges  had  the  right  of  entrance,  we  deter- 
mined to  go  thither  as  spectators.  But  here  the  order, 
which  had  characterized  the  festival,  failed.     The  building 

11 


242  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

was  oj)en  on  all  sides,  to  every  one.  There  were  no  door- 
keepers, no  managers,  and  from  the  back  of  the  stage  to 
the  top  of  the  gallery,  the  space  was  crammed  to  suffoca- 
tion with  a  mixed  multitude,  varying  in  costume  from  the 
most  elegant  ball-toilet  to  the  shabby  dress  of  the  street- 
loafer.  We  made  our  escape  as  soon  as  possible,  strongly 
impressed  with  the  inconsistency  of  shutting  out  ladies  from 
the  ceremonies  of  the  morning  and  admitting  the  unwashed 
to  the  festivities  of  the  evening. 

At  a  subsequent  visit  to  the  shooting-stand  I  encountered 
B.  who  said  to  me  :  "  Have  you  seen  Auerbach  ?"  Berth- 
old  Auerbach  here !  W.  and  I  immediately  set  out  in 
search  of  him,  although  our  chance  of  success  seemed  slight 
indeed.  But  before  we  had  made  our  first  round  through 
the  crowd,  I  espied  a  pair  of  familiar  broad  sbouldei's,  in 
the  middle  of  which,  on  a  short  neck,  was  planted  a  sturdy 
head.  Without  more  ado  I  gave  the  shoulders  a  hearty 
slap,  Avhereupon  the  head  turned  with  an  air  of  resentment 
which  immediately  resolved  itself  into  friendly  surprise. 
The  genial  author  of  "Village  Stones"  and  "Little  Bare- 
foot" joined  us,  but  was  so  constantly  hailed  by  friends  and 
admirers  that  we  soon  lost  him  again.  I  learned,  however, 
that  he  has  another  story  in  press,  called  Edelweiss — the 
name  of  an  Alpine  flower. 

At  the  dinner  of  riflemen,  on  the  same  day,  at  which  the 
Duke  presided,  one  of  the  guests  gave  the  following  toast : 
"Let  ns  not  forget,  on  this  occasion,  our  brethren  across  the 
Atlantic,  who  are  also  proving  their  fidelity  to  the  sentiment 
of  Unity,  who  are  engaged  in  upholding  the  cause  of  Law 
and  Order.     Success  to  the  Germans  who  are  fighting  the 


A    HOME   IN    THE   THUEINGIAN    FOREST.  243 

battles  of  the  Union,  in  America!"  This  was  received  with 
a  storm  of  applause,  the  whole  company  rising  to  their 
feet. 

At  the  close  of  the  Convention,  De  Leuw  of  Diisseldorf 
was  declared  to  be  the  first  shot,  and  Dorner  of  Nuremberg 
the  second.  Besides  the  contributed  prizes,  four  hundred 
in  number,  there  were  additional  prizes  in  money,  and  the 
lucky  first  dozen  of  sharp-shooters  received  several  hui:dred 
dollars  apiece,  together  with  their  silver  goblets  and  spoons. 


6. — Ernest  of  Coburg. 

Now  that  the  smoke  of  the  thirty-five  thousand  shots 
has  cleared  away,  the  guests  have  departed,  the  oak-wreath 
withered,  the  banners  rolled  up  for  the  next  time,  and  the 
first  National  Convention  of  German  Riflemen  declared  to 
be  a  great  success,  we  may  already  begin  to  calculate  its 
direct  results.  In  the  popular  estimation  it  stands  for  more 
than  it  really  is,  and,  therefore,  is  more  than  it  seems. 

Mere  expertness  with  the  rifle  is  a  simple  art,  and  the 
various  corps  of  shooters  might  develop  their  skill  to  an 
equal  extent  without  leaving  home.  But  the  ^lat  given  to 
that  skill  by  a  public  trial  at  which  all  Germany  looks  on — 
the  wide  renown,  the  rich  rewards  which  await  the  victors 
— tend  directly  to  make  these  volunteer  associations 
popular,  and  to  greatly  increase  their  number  and  effici- 
ency. Again,  behind  this  consideration  lies  the  idea  of 
making  the  German  people  strong  for  their  own  defence,  of 


244  AT   HOME    AXD    ABROAD. 

bringing  them  together  from  the  remotest  states,  and  pro- 
moting a  spirit  of  unity,  a  harmony  of  interests  and  of 
aims,  in  spite  of  political  divisions.  Not  in  vain  has  the 
lesson  of  Italy  been  studied  here.  The  people  at  last 
understand  that  they  must  be  a  People,  divided  by  no 
provincial  jealousies,  animated  by  no  narrow  aims,  before 
Germany  can  be  the  one  powerful  consolidated  Empire, 
which  is  their  political  dream. 

In  the  Convention  at  Gotha,  as  well  as  in  the  Singers' 
Festival,  to  be  held  in  Nuremberg  (and  at  which  five  thou- 
sand participants  are  already  announced),  this  is  the  deep, 
underlying  idea.  The  National- yerein  (National- Associ- 
ation), which  was  established  in  1859,  and  already  numbers 
between  twenty  and  thirty  thousand  members,  has  for  its 
object  the  union  of  all  the  scattered  elements  of  Progress 
in  an  organized  body,  which  shall  work  for  the  same  end. 
After  long  wanderings  hither  and  thither  ;  after  many  a 
chase  of  ignes-fatui  through  the  swamps  of  Red  Republic- 
anism, Communism,  and  Socialism,  the  Liberal  Party  in 
Germany  has  at  last  found  its  rational  and  proper  path. 
There  is  no  longer  a  Republican,  but  a  wise,  enlightened 
National  Party,  against  whose  growing  strength  the  reac- 
tion is  beaten  back  on  every  side. 

Not  the  least  important  of  the  circumstances  which  have 
contributed  to  the  success  of  the  Convention  is  the  fact  that 
the  party  possesses  a  leader  who  not  only  enjoys  an 
unbounded  popularity  among  the  masses,  but,  being  him- 
self a  reigning  Prince,  is  at  once  a  guarantee  of  its  charac- 
ter for  his  fellow-rulers,  and  a  shield  for  itself  against  their 
forcible   opposition.    This  leader  is  Ernest  II.,  Duke  of 


A   HOME   IN  THE  THUEINGIAN   EOKEST.  245 

Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  whom  we  best  know  in  America  as 
the  elder  brother  of  Prince  Albert  of  England,  while  in 
Germany  the  latter  is  best  known  as  the  yomiger  brother 
of  the  Duke.  The  Reactionists — especially  the  Junker- 
thum,  or  Squirearchy,  as  the  reactionary  nobility  are  called 
— charge  Ernest  II.  with  being  a  demagogue ;  with  heading 
the  popular  movement  merely  for  the  sake  of  gratifying  a 
hollow  ambition :  but  they  cannot  deny  that  his  course  has 
been  thoroughly  consistent  from  the  beginning,  and  that 
he  remained  true  to  the  cause,  in  spite  of  the  eai-nest 
remonstrances  of  his  royal  relatives,  at  a  time  when  it 
seemed  to  be  utterly  crushed.  If  he  is  simply  cunning, 
and  not  sincere,  as  they  affirm,  it  is  that  nobler  cunning 
which  foresees  the  inevitable  course  of  events,  and  rides 
on  the  top  wave  of  the  flood  which  it  cannot  stay. 

Certainly  since  the  Schleswig-Holstein  war,  in  which  he 
commanded  the  battery  at  Eckernfiord,  whereby  the 
Danish  frigate  Christian  VIII.  was  destroyed,  no  German 
Prince  has  been  so  popular  with  the  people  as  Ernest  II. 
During  the  last  two  years  this  populai'ity  has  taken  a  much 
wider  and  deeper  significance.  In  1859  he  not  only  wel- 
comed the  establishment  of  the  National- Verein,  but  when 
the  Free  City  of  Frankfort  refused  to  allow  its  members 
to  meet  in  convention  there,  invited  them  at  once  to 
Coburg.  A  month  ago  the  Legislative  j^embly  of  the 
Duchy,  at  his  recommendation,  concluded  a  military  con- 
vention with  Prussia,  whereby  the  useless  little  army  of 
the  State  is  consolidated  into  that  of  the  greater  power — a 
practical  step  toward  unity.  And  now,  by  his  indefatigable 
labors  as  President  of  the  Convention  of  Riflemen,  by  his 


246  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD, 

plain,  cordial  bearing,  his  conciliatory  patience  and  kindness 
in  adjusting  disputes  and  jealousies  among  the  guests,  and, 
more  than  all,  by  his  earnest,  patriotic  utterances,  he  has 
sprmig  to  a  height  of  popularity  which  might  make  giddy 
a  head  less  clear  and  cool  than  his. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  Convention,  when  the  members 
assembled  in  the  hall,  the  Duke  made  a  short  address, 
recommending  the  formation  of  a  permanent  union  of 
volunteer  rifle-corps  throughout  all  Germany,  not  only  for 
the  purpose  of  uniting  upon  normal  regulations  in  regard 
to  the  exercises,  but  also  to  arm  and  discipline  the  young 
men,  so  that  they  may  finally  constitute  a  reserve  for  the 
regular  army.  "  The  time  to  create  a  sensation  by  words 
alone,''  said  he,  "  is  past.  The  people  demand  action,  for 
the  sake  of  their  strength  and  unity.  I  hear  of  dangers 
which  threaten  our  Fatherland;  but  a  people  is  beyond 
danger  as  soon  as  it  is  truly  united,  truly  strong.''  The 
proposal  was  unanimously  adopted.  A  plain-spoken  doubt- 
er, however,  during  the  day,  ventured  to  apj^roach  the 
Duke  and  to  say :  "  Your  Highness,  your  words  were 
noble  and  patriotic ;  but  will  you  stand  by  them  ?"  The 
Duke  answered,  good-humoredly  clapping  the  speaker  on 
the  shoulder,  "-My  friend,  all  that  I  have  heretofore 
promised  I  have  performed :  I  think  you  may  safely  confide 
in  me  this  time." 

I  had  rece^y  the  honor  of  a  long  personal  interview 
with  Ernest  II.,  from  which  I  came  away  with  a  most 
agreeable  impression  of  his  character  and  talents.  I  had 
previously  been  presented  to  him  during  the  visit  of  Prince 
Albert  to  Gotha,  three  years  ago,  and  was  then  struck  by 


A    nOMK  IN   THE  THURINGIAN   FOREST.  247 

his  free,  off-hand,  animated  demeanor,  which  offered  a 
marked  contrast  to  the  somewhat  reserved  and  haughty 
bearing  of  his  younger  bi'other.  On  my  way  through 
Coburg  to  the  Franconian  Switzerland  a  month  ago,  I  ex- 
pressed a  wish,  through  a  friend  in  the  Ministry,  to  wait  upon 
him  at  the  castle  of  Callenberg,  near  that  city — his  residence 
in  the  early  summer.  The  permission  was  at  once  given,  and 
with  a  cordiality  which  relieved  me  from  any  fear  of  intrusion. 

On  alighting  from  the  train  at  the  Coburg  station,  I  was 
accosted  by  a  personage  in  a  white  cravat,  who,  after 
satisfying  himself  as  to  my  identity,  announced,  "His 
Highness  expects  you  to  dinner,  at  the  Callenberg,  at  seven 
o'clock  this  evening.''  Then  probably  suspecting  that  an 
American  might  be  unfamiliar  with  the  requirements  of 
costume,  he  added,  in  a  whisper,  "  You  only  need  a  black 
cravat  and  a  dress-coat."  I  satisfied  his  mind  on  that  score, 
and  we  proceeded  together  to  the  hotel.  He  took  the 
further  precaution  of  ordering  the  carriage,  in  order  that  I 
might  be  punctual ;  but  I  was  already  aware  that  punctuality 
is  a  necessary  virtue  of  princes. 

The  evening  was  delicious,  and  the  drive  of  three  miles 
was  a  cheerful  ante-chamber,  through  which  to  enter 
pleasant  society.  (There  are  few  European  courts  which 
can  be  thus  designated.)  The  old  fortress  of  Coburg, 
where  Luther  wrote,  "  Our  Lord,  He  is  a  Tower  of 
Strength,''^  stood  golden  in  the  sun,  and  long  shadows  lay 
across  the  meadows  of  Rosenau.  A  mild  breeze,  hay- 
scented,  blew  over  the  hills,  and  frosted  the  poplars  with 
the  silver  of  their  upturned  leaves. 

The  Duke's  valet,   a  stout  Afdcan,   met    me    at    the 


248  AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

entrance,  and  conducted  me  to  an  upper  terrace — a  lovely, 
shaded  spot,  planted  with  flowers  in  rococo  patterns,  with 
a  fountain  in  the  centre.  The  castle  completely  covers  the 
sharp  summit  of  the  mountain,  and  is  visible  far  and  wide. 
I  was  about  entering,  when  I  was  confronted  by  a  tail, 
stately  gentleman,  who  bowed  with  appropriate  gravity. 
One  of  the  lackeys,  seeing  that  I  did  not  recognize  him, 
introduced  him,  with  ready  tact,  as  "  The  Oberhofmarshall 
(Chamberlain)  von ."  This  personage  courteously  con- 
ducted me  around  the  terrace  and  pointed  out  the  beauties 
of  the  landscape.  I  had  been  upon  the  Callenberg  years 
before,  but  had  never  seen  it  in  the  splendor  of  summer. 

There  is  scarcely  a  more  exquisite  situation  in  Germany. 
It  differs  from  Reinhardtsbrunn  as  a  mountain  differs  from 
a  valley,  depending  more  on  the  natural  characteristics  of 
the  view  than  on  the  artistic  development  of  Nature.  It  is 
high  enough  to  command  a  wide  and  grand  panorama,  yet 
not  so  high  as  to  lose  the  sentiment  and  expression  of  the 
different  features.  Each  angle  of  the  parapet  gives  you  a 
new  landscape.  There  is,  first,  the  valley  of  Coburg, 
crowned  by  its  hill  and  fortress ;  then  a  broad  mountain  of 
dark  firs,  all  else  shut  out  from  view ;  then  a  vision  of 
England — hedge-row  trees,  green  lawns,  clumps  of  oak, 
and  water ;  and,  finally,  a  rich  plain,  stretching  away  to 
the  west,  where  the  volcanic  peaks  of  the  Gleichberge  rise 
against  the  sky.  The  trees  on  the  hill  itself  are  superb, 
and  the  castle  on  the  summit  so  thoroughly  harmonizes 
with  the  scenery  that  it  seems  the  natural  crowning  expres- 
sion of  the  whole. 

Presently    the    Duke's    Adjutant,    Ilerr    von    Reuter, 


A   HOME   IN   THE  THUEINGIAN   FOBEST.  249 

arrived,  in  company  with  his  wife  and  sister,  to  all  of  whom 
I  was  presented  in  due  form.  The  Adjutant  was  a  slight, 
gentlemanly  person,  with  an  air  of  refinement  and  intelli- 
gence ;  the  ladies  handsome  and  graceful,  and  simply,  but 
very  elegantly,  dressed.  Scarcely  had  we  exchanged  a 
few  commonplaces,  when  the  Duke  and  Duchess  came  out 
upon  the  terrace.  The  Chamberlain  immediately  presented 
me  to  the  latter.  She  was  the  Princess  Alexandrina,  of 
Baden,  a  sister  of  the  reigning  Grand-Duke.  Of  medium 
height,  a  full  rather  than  plump  figure,  with  blonde  hair, 
blue  eyes,  and  a  quiet,  almost  retiring,  simplicity  of  manner, 
I  could  readily  understand  the  affectionate  regard  in  which 
she  is  held  by  the  people.  Her  kindness  of  heart  is  evident 
to  any  one  who  looks  on  her  face. 

The  Duke  then  advanced  and  addressed  me  very  cor- 
dially. He  has  but  a  slight  family  resemblance  to  Prince 
Albert,  than  whom  he  appears  younger,  although  two  years 
older.  His  features  are  not  so  regularly  chiselled  as  those 
of  his  brother,  who  is  certainly  one  of  the  handsomest 
men  in  Europe,  but  far  more  animated  and  expressive. 
He  is  about  five  feet  ten  inches  in  height,  slender,  but 
perfectly  symmetrical,  and  quick  and  elastic  in  his  move- 
ments. His  face  is  a  fine  oval,  the  forehead  expansive  at 
the  temples,  and  the  eyes  a  clear,  splendid  hazel.  His  nose 
is  rather  long,  but  not  prominent,  the  lips  firm  and  sharply 
cut,  while  a  mustache  and  short,  pointed  beard  increase  their 
character  of  decision.  It  is  a  mediaeval  rather  than  a 
modern  head — such  as  might  have  belonged  to  that  Ernest 
who  was  carried  off  by  the  robber-knight,  Kunz  von  Kauf 
ungen,  and  who  was  his  own  ancestor  in  a  direct  line.    He 

11* 


250  AT    HOME   AKD    ABEOAD. 

is  passionately  fond  of  hunting,  riding,  driving,  and  all 
other  out-door  diversions,  of  which  taste  his  tanned  face 
and  hands  gave  evidence. 

He  took  me  off  to  the  parapet  and  began  to  comment  on 
the  landscape  ;  but  in  a  few  minutes  dinner  was  announced, 
and  we  rejoined  the  company.  The  etiquette  observed 
was  very  simple.  The  Duke  and  Duchess  took  the  lead, 
I,  as  a  stranger,  following — in  advance  of  the  ladies,  to  my 
surprise — and  the  Chamberlain  brought  up  the  rear.  The 
princely  pair  were  first  served,  of  course,  but  this  was  the 
only  formality  observed.  There  was  a  free,  unrestrained 
flow  of  conversation,  in  which  all  took  part,  and  the 
subject  was  naturally  varied,  without  waiting  for  the  Ruler 
to  give  the  cue.  The  Duke,  it  is  true,  was  the  leader,  not 
from  his  position,  but  from  natural  right.  I  cannot  judge 
of  the  depth,  but  I  can  testify  to  the  great  extent  of  his 
acquirements.  He  has,  at  least,  the  mental  qualities  of 
attraction  and  assimilation^  which  are  not  the  least  import- 
ant concomitants  of  genius.  With  an  admirable  memory 
and  a  vital  interest  in  every  field  of  knowledge,  there  are 
few  subjects  upon  which  he  cannot  converse  brilliantly. 
Quick,  animated,  sparkling,  he  provokes  the  electricity  of 
those  with  whom  he  comes  in  contact.  His  greatest  aver- 
sion, I  should  think,  Avould  be  a  dull  person.  Perhaps  this 
is  the  reason  why  there  is  so  little  love  lost  between  him 
and  the  nobility.  He  would  rather  talk  with  an  intelligent 
burgher  than  a  stupid  baron. 

The  Duke  has  talents  which,  if  he  were  not  a  duke, 
might  have  made  him  eminent  in  various  ways.  He  is  the 
author  of  a  work  on  the  Schleswig-Holstein  war,  and  the 


A   HOME   IN   THE   THDKINGIAN  FOREST.  251 

composer  of  five  operas,  two  of  which — "  Santa  Chiara" 
and  "  Diane  de  Solanges" — have  attained  a  certain  popular- 
ity. I  have  never  had  an  opportunity  of  hearing  either. 
As  an  amateur  player  he  is  said  to  be  admirable.  Yet, 
with  all  these  brilliant  qualities,  he  is  steady,  prudent,  and 
clear-headed — ambitious,  no  doubt,  but  intelligently  so.  It 
is  no  damage  to  his  future  that  his  enemies  are  nobles  and 
princes,  and  his  friends  the  people. 

After  dinner,  which  lasted  about  an  houi*,  we  went  upon 
the  terrace  for  coiFee  and  cigars.  The  Duke  called  my 
attention  to  a  small  but  thrifty  specimen  of  the  Sequoia, 
or  California  tree,  and  inquired  particularly  about  the  soil 
in  which  it  grew,  the  tempei'ature  it  could  endure,  etc.,  as 
he  was  anxious  to  acclimate  it  completely.  He  then  invited 
me  to  a  corner  of  the  parapet,  looking  down  on  the  love- 
liest woods,  where  our  conversation  soon  became  entirely 
frank  and  uni'eserved.  He  expressed  his  political  views 
without  the  least  reticence,  and  thereby  instituted — what 
he  probably  desired — a  similar  frankness  on  my  part.  In 
fact,  I  ceased  to  remember  that  I  was  addressing  a  reigning 
Prince,  and  he  had  the  full  advantage  of  such  forgetfulness. 
I  have  not  the  right  to  repeat  this  conversation,  but  I  will 
venture  to  give  one  remark  in  evidence.  In  speaking  of  a 
certain  crowned  head,  the  Duke  said :  "  He  has  one  I'are 
quality.  He  hears,  patiently,  views  which  are  directly 
opposed  to  his  own,  turns  them  over  in  his  mind,  and,  if  he 
finds  them  good,  adopts  them,  frankly  acknowledging  that  he 
w\as  wrong."  "Au  admirable  quality!"  said  I:  "it  would 
be  a  blessing  to  Europe  if  all  her  rulers  possessed  it."  To 
which  he  assented  most  heartily. 


252  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

His  last  political  step — the  account  which  he  has  ren- 
dered to  the  German  people  of  his  position  as  ruler — is,  in 
its  boldness  and  candor,  a  new  apparition,  and  marks  the 
downfall  of  a  fossilized  conventionalism  in  politics.  As 
this  expression  undoubtedly  was  suggested  by  the  results 
of  the  national-shooting  match,  I  quote  its  manly  conclu- 
sion :  "  The  popular  mind  resembles  the  swelling,  swift- 
advancing  current  of  a  river.  To  dam  it,  to  delay  it  in  its 
course,  is  a  fruitless  undertaking.  The  waves  rise  foaming 
aloft,  and  sweep  every  barrier  away  with  them.  Patriots 
and  princes  should  therefore  be  inspired  by  the  same 
endeavor,  to  keep  the  flood  pure  in  its  forward  movement, 
and  restrain  it  within  its  proper  banks.  In  order  to  accom- 
plish this,  the  active  sympathy  of  the  people  themselves  is 
necessary.  They  should  not  stand  aloof  from  the  men 
whose  duty  it  is  to  hold  the  reins  of  government.  It  is  to 
be  condemned,  indeed,  when  one  struggles  for  popularity, 
in  the  universally-accepted  sense  of  the  word,  and  makes 
himself  artificially  popular,  regardless  of  the  work  in  his 
hands.  But  it  is  equally  wrong  to  suppose  that  without 
the  warm  sympathy  of  the  people — therefore,  without 
popularity  in  its  truer  sense — patriotic  men  can  benefi- 
cently exercise  the  leadership  of  the  masses.  The  people 
must,  therefore,  honor  the  names  of  their  leaders,  them- 
selves protect  them  from  aspersion,  and  should  never  lose 
sight  of  the  fact  that  mutual  confidence  is  inseparable  from 
mutual  charity  and  consideration.'' 

In  regard  to  our  American  difficulties,  the  Duke  expressed 
himself  as  earnestly  as  I  could  have  desired.  He  doubted, 
however,  whether  the  rebels  would  hold  the  field,   after 


A   HOME   IN   THE   THURINGIAN   FOREST.  253* 

ascertaining  the  inimense  force  which  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment could  bring  against  them.  I  explained  that  resistance, 
even  against  such  odds,  was  but  a  part  of  that  enormous 
Southern  vanity  which  did  not  seem  to  be  appreciated  by 
European  spectators  of  the  struggle ;  but  he  evidently 
disbelieved  in  a  vanity  so  at  variance  with  common  sense. 

At  ten  o'clock  there  was  a  movement  of  departure. 
The  Duke  shook  hands  with  a  friendly  "  au  revoir .'"  and 
I  followed  the  Chamberlain,  Adjutant,  and  ladies  to  the 
carriages.  Independently  of  the  interest  connected  with 
the  principal  personage,  I  had  passed,  socially,  a  most 
delightful  evening,  and  returned  to  Coburg  with  the 
agreeable  conviction  that  some  Princes  can  be  men  as  well. 

— ^This  chapter  is  what  Jean  Paul  calls  an  "  Extra-Leaf," 
interpolated  into  the  regular  course  of  my  journal.  It  is 
possible  that  in  the  future  developments  of  German  history 
Ernest  II.,  of  Saxe-Coburg-Gotha,  will  occupy  an  important 
place,  and  my  readers  will  then  thank  me  for  having  made 
them,  to  this  extent,  acquainted  with  him. 


V. — Stobks  and  Authobs. 

Jolt  15,  1861. 
After  four  days  of  such  agreeable  excitement  as  the 
Festival  in  Gotha  had  given,  ijb  was  nevertheless  with 
renewed  satisfaction  that  we  returned  to  our  cottage  in  the 
mountains.  We  did  not  even  wait  for  the  closing  fire- 
works, (the  illumination  of  Constantinople  in  the  night  of 


254  •         AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

Bairam  having  spoiled  us  for  all  inferior  displays,)  but 
started  at  sunset,  leaving  the  banners  and  trumpets  behind 
us,  for  the  welcome  gloom  and  stillness  of  the  Forest. 

The  carriage  rolled  rapidly,  in  the  soft  glow  of  evening, 
over  the  familiar  road.  Past  the  old  quarries  of  red  sand- 
stone, past  the  "Mad  Dog,"  a  noted  "beer-locality," 
through  the  little  village  of  Sundhausen,  and  then  out  on  the 
rich,  undulating  plain.  To  the  left  lay  the  Boxberg,  a  low, 
wooded  hill,  where  I  had  enjoyed  family  pic-nics  years  ago, 
and  frightened  the  German  children  with  an  imitation  of 
the  cry  of  the  American  wild-cat;  and  far  to  the  right, 
purple  in  the  twilight,  the  haunted  Horsel.  By  and  bye, 
as  the  dusk  fell,  we  reached  Wahlwinkel  (Election-corner), 
but  the  little  one  who  should  have  sent  the  wife-stork  a 
greeting,  as  she  sat  on  her  nest,  was  sound  asleep.  The 
stork  looked  down,  and  nodded,  as  much  as  to  say :  "  Ah  • 
ha !  Is  .  that  the  little  one  I  brought  from  Egypt  three 
years  ago  ?  How  she's  gi'own !" 

And  straightway,  in  the  dusk,  opened  a  gate  into  Fable- 
land.  I  saw  not  only  the  Osiride  pillars  of  rosy  sandstone 
in  the  halls  of  Karnak,  but  the  pass-word  of  that  magic 
which  unites  the  divided  Palm  and  Pine,  was  whispered 
in  my  ear.  "  What  are  you  doing  here  ?"  said  the  stork, 
as  she  clapped  her  bill  from  her  nest  on  the  chimney ;  "  I 
saw  you  once,  under  the  palms  of  Luxor.  The  brown 
mare  is  dead,  and  Hassan  is  blind  of  an  eye,  and  Teffaha, 
who  danced  by  torch-light — oh,  I  saw  it,  through  a  hole  in 
the  temple-roof! — went  away  long  ago;  but  the  sphinx 
says  to  me  every  winter, '  Have  you  seen  him  ?  will  he  come 
back  soon  ?'  and  I  answer  :  '  He'll  come — be  sure  of  that  I 


A    HOME   IN   THE   THUKINGIAN   FOREST.  255 

I  saw  him  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the  Parthenon,  as  I  flew 
over  mth  the  lotus-bud  in  my  bill.  He  was  looking  across 
the  sea  and  the  sand.'  "  I  gave  the  stork  a  message  in  the 
same  language  ;  but  what  the  message  was,  you  must  ask 
the  sphinx  at  Luxor,  and  I  don't  believe  she  will  tell  you. 

Incredulous  readers  may  doubt  my  knowledge  of  the 
stork-language,  and,  to  justify  my  assertion,  I  must  give 
them  proofs  of  the  higher  intelligence  which  this  bird  pos- 
sesses. In  Germany  he  is  sacred ;  and  he  knows  it,  I  have 
seen  him  walking  in  the  crowded  street  of  a  city,  with  as 
much  gravity  and  composure  as  if  he  had  black  pantaloons 
on  his  red  legs  and  an  umbrella  under  his  wing.  He  builds 
his  nest  only  on  house-tops,  and  comes  back  regularly  to 
the  same  spot  from  his  yearly  journeys  to  Africa,  He  is 
a  faithful  provider  for  his  family,  irreproachable  in  his 
connubial  relations,  and  of  a  Spaitan  strictness  of  discipline. 
He  does  not  associate  with  other  birds — unless,  perhaps, 
with  the  Ibis,  whose  aristocracy  is  of  about  as  old  a  date 
as  his  own.  Staid,  constant,  thrifty,  conscientious,  he  sets 
an  example  on  the  top  of  the  house  to  the  family  under 
him,  and  is  therefore  fastidious  in  his  selection  of  a  resi- 
dence. 

Moreover,  the  stork  is  the  only  bird  that  regularly  pays 
rent.  Duiing  the  first  year  of  his 4"esidence,  he  plucks  out 
a  stout  feather  from  his  wing,  and  casts  it  down.  The 
second  year,  his  payment  is  an  egg,  and  the  third,  a  young 
bh'd.  He  would  be  highly  offended,  if  the  payment  should 
be  returned.  "While  he  is  very  devoted  in  his  attach- 
ment to  his  mate,  he  requires  an  equal  devotion  fi-om  her, 
and  forgives  no  departure  from   the   strict   line  of  duty. 


256  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

A  person  once  perpetrated  the  cruel  joke  of  taking  a 
stork's  egg  out  of  the  nest  while  the  parents  were  absent, 
and  putting  a  goose's  egg  in  its  place.  When  the  brood 
was  hatched  out,  the  astonishment  of  the  male  and  the 
dismay  of  the  female  bird  were  without  bounds.  The 
former  presently  flew  off  and  summoned  a  council  of  his 
fellow-storks,  who,  after  examining  the  unfoi'tunate  gosling, 
pronounced  a  verdict  of  "  Guilty  !"  and  thereupon  pierced 
the  innocent  female  to  death  wath  their  sharp  bills. 

A  curious  case  of  a  different  character  occurred  last 
summer,  in  Holstein.  A  male-stork,  well-known  to  the 
inhabitants,  reached  his  summer  home  at  the  usual  time, 
unaccompanied  by  his  mate.  He  repaired  and  re-lined  his 
nest,  like  a  careful  husband :  still,  the  wife  did  not  come. 
He  became  sad,  then  restless,  and  finally,  taking  a  sudden 
resolution,  brought  home  a  blushing  young  stork-bride 
from  a  neighboring  colony.  The  household  was  now^  hap- 
pily formed,  and  everything  went  on  as  usual,  until,  a 
week  afterwards,  the  old  wife  suddenly  made  her  appear- 
ance. Her  anger,  the  alarm  of  the  younger  female,  and 
the  embarrassment  of  the  husband,  were  so  expressive, 
that  the  spectators  at  once  understood  the  situation. 
After  the  first  confusion  was  over,  calmer  explanations 
followed.  The  difficulty  was  dispassionately  considered, 
and  the  result  was,  that  all  three  set  to  work  the  next  day 
to  enlarge  the  nest,  and  the  reconciled  wives  hatched  out 
a  double  brood  of  young.  Here  are  two  additional  facts 
for  the  use  of  those  who  maintain  that  animals  can  not  only 
express  their  feelings,  but  relate  narratives  and  discuss 
questions.     For  my  part  I  once  heard  a  lengthened  conver 


A   HOME   IN   THE  THUKINGIAN   FOREST.  257 

sation  (which  the  attending  circumstances  made  perfectly 
inteUigible  to  me)  between  two  crows. 

It  was  quite  dark  as  we  entered  the  glen,  leading  to 
Reinhardtsbrunn,  and  the  postillion's  horn  breathed  forth 
only  slow,  lamenting  melodies,  the  notes  of  which  wan- 
dered far  away  under  the  trees,  as  if  seeking  an  outlet  to 
the  starlight.  Our  cottage  glimmered  on  the  height,  as 
we  approached,  and  the  flag  flapped  in  the  night-wind, 
saying:  "All's  well!"  The  house-maid,  Hanna,  had  heard 
the  hora,  and  stood  already  at  the  door,  with  a  candle  in 
her  hand.  Verily,  the  place  already  possessed  an  atmo- 
sphere of  home. 

The  next  day,  I  rested  from  the  past  excitements,  enjoy- 
ing Gray's  highest  idea  of  earthly  happiness.  That  is,  it 
■was  rainy,  and  I  read  a  novel,  which  gave  me  a  new  and 
interesting  insight  into  a  particular  field  of  German  litera- 
ture. In  England,  the  three-volume  novel  is  the  fashion- 
able form :  in  Germany,  of  late  years,  it  is  the  nine-volume 
novel !  If  a  mystical  luck  is  connected  with  the  number 
three,  why,  three  times  three  is  of  course  a  double  assur- 
ance. The  work  in  question  is  Gutzkow's  "Knights  of 
the  Mind"  {Ritter  vom  Geiste),  which  I  should  call  a  pano- 
ramic novel,  since  it  seems  to  embrace  the  whole  circle 
of  the  philosophies,  the  sciences  and  the  passions.  Still,  in 
spite  of  the  undoubted  genius  which  it  displays,  I  am 
inclined  to  think  that  there  is  a  little  too  much  of  it. 
Here,  I  have  gotten  through  with  three  volumes,  or  nearly 
fifteen  hundred  pages,  and  the  action  has  advanced  but 
eight  days  since  the  commencement !  The  fourth  volume, 
upon  which  I  am  now  engaged,  is  wholly  taken  up  with 


258  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

the  tvansactions  of  a  single  evening.  At  this  rate,  if  the 
author's  plan  had  extended  over  a  year,  we  should  have 
had  a  hundred  volumes,  instead  of  nine.  Gutzkow  has 
recently  published  a  second  novel,  "  The  Wizard  of  Rome,'' 
also  in  nine  volumes.  One  is  tempted  to  ask :  "  Why 
nine  .^"  In  literature  as  in  painting,  it  is  not  the  immense 
frescoes  that  are  the  greatest  pictures.  Gutzkow  is  a  fine 
artist,  but  he  takes  too  large  a  canvas. 

It  occurs  to  me  that  in  this  manner  a  popular  novelist 
might,  with  a  little  cunning,  secure  to  himself  employment 
for  life,  and  a  permanent  income.  Let  him  first  announce 
a  work  in  five  or  six  volumes,  to  be  published  at  intervals 
of  three  months.  At  the  end  of  the  first  year,  having 
obtained  from  twenty  to  fifty  thousand  readers,  he  could 
state  that  the  exigencies  of  his  plot  required  him  to  add 
half  a  dozen  more  volumes.  After  having  led  his  readers 
thus  through  four  or  five  years,  the  simple  fact  of  their 
having  already  read  so  much,  would  secure  them  for  the 
rest  of  his  life.  The  work  would  have  the  same  attraction 
as  a  lottery,  each  consecutive  volume  promising  to  be  the 
prize  (that  is,  the  conclusion,) — and,  in  spite  of  fifty 
blanks,  the  poor  readers  would  still  hope  for  better  luck 
next  time.  Dumas'  "  Three  Guardsmen"  and  its  successors, 
are  specimens  of  this  strategy,  on  a  smaller  scale. 

The  "Knights  of  the  Mind,''  however,  has  the  advantage 
of  a  strong  national  interest,  which  has  caused  it  to  be 
read  with  avidity  in  Germany  ;  while,  for  the  same  reason, 
a  translation  of  it  into  English  would  not  repay  the 
publisher.  Many  of  the  characters  are  real  individuals, 
slightly  disguised,  and  the  thread  of  the  story,   which  is 


A    HOME   IN   THE   THURINGIAN   FOREST.  259 

sufficiently  improbable,  is  subordinate  to  its  political  and 
philosophical  development.  As  I  said  before,  it  exhibits 
great  powers,  but  unnecessarily  diluted. 

Saturday  dawned  fair  and  warm,  and  the  wooded  moun- 
tains blissfully  enjoyed  the  sunshine.  Our  old  friends 
across  the  gardens,  and  the  Councilloress  B.  with  her  boys, 
joined  us  at  breakfast,  under  the  locust-trees  in  front  of 
the  Felsenkeller.  Scarcely  had  we  taken  our  seats,  when 
the  plague  of  the  Thtlringian  Forest — the  lace-peddlers — 
assailed  us.  In  valley  and  on  height,  by  wood  and  field, 
they  lay  in  wait  for  you.  Sit  under  a  tree,  and  one  of 
them  drops  from  the  branches  ;  look  into  a  pond,  and  the 
shadow  of  another  opens  its  pasteboard-box.  Denial  does 
no  good,  and  it  is  not  lawful  to  use  force.  On  this  particular 
morning,  the  lady  B.,  in  a  flow  of  merry  spirits,  took  up  a 
new  weapon,  which,  to  our  surprise,  proved  entirely 
efiectual.  "  Lace  !"  said  she,  assuming  an  air  half  tragic, 
half  sentimental,  "talk  not  of  lace  {spitzen)  in  the  majestic 
presence  of  Nature  !  we  have  mountain-peaks  (berg-spitzen) 
already.  For  the  border  (saum)  of  a  dress  ?  see,  yonder 
is  the  edge  of  the  forest  {wald-saum) !  Remove  your 
lace,  ye  profane  I  The  bosom  of  Nature  requires  it  not !" 
The  rest  of  us  took  up  the  cue,  and  the  peddlers,  at  first 
mystified,  presently  went  ofl"  in  great  indignation. 

At  Reinhardtsbrunn  we  met  B.,  in  company  with  a  giant 

rifleman,    the    Captain   von   K ,    on   their   way   to 

the  summit  of  the  Inselsberg.  We  straightway  joined  the 
party,  the  ladies  promising  to  meet  us  at  the  Hunter's  Rest, 
high  on  the  mountain,  in  the  afternoon.  It  was-  intensely 
hot  as  we  drove  up  the  Monsters'  Ravine,  between  its  taU 


260  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

bluffs  of  rock,  now  and  then  scaring  a  doe  from  her  pasture. 
I  secretly  rejoiced  that  the  easy  grade  of  the  macadamized 
road  allowed  rae  to  keep  my  seat  while  climbing  the  steep 
at  the  end  of  the  glen.  Once  on  the  ridge,  we  had  a  long 
level  to  the  foot  of  the  Inselsberg,  with  a  view  extending 
northward  to  the  Brocken,  and  southward  over  the  princi- 
pality of  Saxe-Meiningen  into  Bavaria.  The  Captain,  an 
Austrian  by  birth,  had  much  that  was  interesting  to  relate. 
He  had  made  the  campaign  in  Italy  in  1849,  had  been  in 
Dalmatia,  in  Turkey  and  Hungary,  and  was  now  an 
inhabitant  of  Holstein — a  Liberal  in  his  political  views,  but 
by  no  means  a  Democrat.  Although  himself  a  noble,  he 
was  excessively  severe  upon  the  adelstolz,  or  pride  of  caste, 
which  is  the  chief  characteristic  of  a  large  portion  of  the 
German  nobility.  "For  a  young  fellow  who  has  been 
brought  up  at  home,  by  a  silly  mother,  and  knows  no 
better,''  said  he,  "  I  have  only  commiseration ;  but  a 
nobleman  who  has  seen  the  world,  and  is  acquainted  with 
men,  and  still  exhibits  this  pride  of  caste,  is  a  stupid  ass  !" 
We  all  laughed  at  the  Captain's  honest  emphasis,  and 
I  mentally  contrasted  his  good  sense  with  the  conversation 
of  certain  F.F.V.'s  whom  I  have  met,  and  who  so  bored 
me  with  accounts  of  "good  families,"  that  I  devoutly 
wished  there  had  been  a  few  bad  families  in  Virginia. 

We  had  a  lovely  day  for  the  view  from  the  Inselsberg. 
Now,  I  shall  not  attempt  to  describe  this  view,  for  I  find 
that  the  panoramas  visible  from  inland  mountains  which 
rise  beyond  a  certain  height,  have  very  much  the  same 
general  features.  All- the  lower  ranges  are  flattened  to  the 
eye»  and  the  perspective  of  color  passes  through  the  same 


A   HOME   IN  THE   THURINGIAN  FOREST.  261 

delicate  gradations.  Nearest  below  you  a  group  of  dark 
fir  mountains,  then  a  middle  distance  of  varying  green, 
brown,  and  gold  ;  and,  embracing  all,  a  glassy,  transparent 
horizon-ring  of  the  tenderest  blue  and  purple  tints.  Any 
one  who  has  stood  upon  a  mountain  can  from  these  hints 
construct  the  picture. 

The  landlord  recognized  in  B.  a  beneficent  patron,  and 
gave  us  a  sumptuous  dinner,  including  trout  and  venison, 
in  his  lofty  hotel.  We  drank  our  cofiee  in  the  open  air, 
taking  (I  at  least)  full  draughts  of  the  loveliest  colors  for 
the  palette  of  the  eye,  while  the  fragrant  Mocha  gratified 
the  palate  of  the  baser  sense.  The  Hunter's  Rest  was 
visible  far  below,  a  green  meadow-spot  among  the  woods, 
and  we  descried,  through  a  telescope,  a  familiar  rose-colored 
dress,  which  announced  that  the  ladies  had  already  arrived. 
"We  joined  them  in  season  to  pass  an  hour  of  the  sweet 
evening  in  their  company,  and  then  walked  together  in  the 
c»ol  twilight,  three  miles  down  the  mountain,  to  our 
cottage. 


8. — "The  Vision  of  Sudden  Death." 

July  17,  1861. 
Did  you  ever  read  De  Quincey's  "Vision  of  Sudden 
Death  ?" — that  powerful,  fascinating  paper,  which  whirls 
you  onward  with  impetuous  speed  as  to  an  inevitable 
doom,  and  finally  terminates  in  a  puff  of  dust,  leaving  you 
a  little  be\vildei*ed,  but  none  the  worse !  It  was  recalled 
to  my  mind  yesterday  evening  by  a  vision  more  terrible 


262  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

than  that  which  he  describes,  and  as  fortunate  in  its  close, 
I  have  not  read  the  article  for  years,  but  I  shall  read  it 
again  with  that  keen  understanding,  that  sharp  interior 
iUuniination  which  a  moment's  sensation  is  sufficient  to 
give.  I  look  out  of  my  window  on  the  fair  valley,  fairer 
than  ever  in  the  morning  sunshine  and  the  ripening  grain, 
and  as  my  eyes  toucb  one  point  where  a  row  of  trees 
bends  along  the  side  of  the  mountain,  an  icy  chill  suddenly 
strikes  to  my  heart.  Yet — everything  remains  as  it  was 
twenty-four  hours  ago,  in  ISTature,  in  my  own  household, 
in  all  our  hopes  and  plans.  The  ship  that  just  grazes  an 
iceberg  comes  into  port  as  surely  as  that  which  passed  it, 
out  of  sight ;  but  the  passengers  step  on  shore  with  very 
different  feelings. 

Four  miles  eastward  of  this,  on  the  end  of  a  mountain- 
spur,  is  the  site  of  the  first  Christian  church  in  Middle 
Germany.  The  whole  neighborhood  round  about  was 
consecrated  by  the  labors  of  that  "  Apostle  of  Peace,"  St. 
Bonifacius,  whom  Saxon  England  sent  to  redeem  her 
mother-land  from  heathendom,  and  this  church  was  the 
first  temple  he  raised  over  the  ruined  altars  of  Odin  and  the 
Druid  oaks  which  he  felled  with  his  own  hand.  An  excur- 
sion to  the  spot  was  part  of  our  summer  programme,  which 
we  carried  out  yesterday  afternoon.  During  all  my 
previous  rambles  in  the  Thftringian  Forest  I  had  somehow 
neglected  this  locality,  and  when  the  cool  air,  the  shaded 
sky,  and  the  subdued,  mellow  light  which  lay  upon  the 
landscape,  giving  its  tints  that  ripe,  juicy  depth  Avhich  is 
to  the  eye  as  a  strong  flavor  to  the  palate,  lured  us  forth 
from  our  cottage,  I  said  "Let  us  go  to  Altenberga  I" 


A    HOME    IN   THE   THURINGIAN   FOREST.  263 

That  the  reader  may  follow  this  pilgrimage  with  the 
proper  interest,  let  me  communicate  to  him  the  history  of 
St.  Bonifacius  and  his  labors,  as  I  have  gathered  it  from 
the  Thiiringian  Chronicles.  The  commencement  of  Chris- 
tianity in  Germany  was  also  the  commencement  of  Civiliza- 
tion, and  Bonifacius  deserves  a  place  next  after  Charle- 
magne, among  the  founders  of  the  Empire.  His  true  name 
was  Winfried.  He  was  born  in  England  in  the  year  680, 
and  was  educated  in  the  monastery  of  Nut-shell  (?),  where, 
as  a  boy,  he  determined  to  devote  his  life  to  missionary 
labors.  His  first  attempt  was  made  in  Friesland,  as  an 
assistant  of  the  English  bishop,  Willibrod.  Failing  in  this, 
he  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  and  was  consecrated  for 
the  work  by  Pope  Gregory  H.  Crossing  the  Alps,  he 
passed  through  Bavaria  to  Thtlringia  and  Hessia,  where 
he  preached  to  the  people  at  first  with  more  zeal  than 
success.  Afterwards,  having  secured  the  protection  of 
Cbarles  Martel,  the  virtual  ruler  of  the  Franks,  to  whom 
nearly  the  whole  of  Germany  was  then  subject,  his  labors 
began  to  exhibit  cheering  results.  He  made  himself  the 
object  of  special  awe  among  the  people  by  the  boldness 
with  which  he  overthrew  and  destroyed  the  rude  statues 
of  their  gods.  At  the  village  of  Geismar,  in  Hessia,  he 
seized  an  axe  and  hewed  down  the  immense  Thunder-oak, 
sacred  to  Thor,  while  the  people  looked  on  in  silent  con- 
sternation. 

It  was  in  or  about  the  year  726,  (the  precise  date  cannot 
be  ascertained)  when  he  built  a  chapel  dedicated  to  St. 
John  the  Baptist,  on  the  hill  overlooking  the  village  of 
Altenberga.     Tradition  relates  that  the  people  so  crowded 


264  AT  HOME   AND   ABEOAD. 

to  hear  him  preach  that  the  chapel  was  soon  unable  to 
contam  them,  and  he  was  obliged  to  hold  service  in  the 
open  air.  The  Devil  thereupon  sent  flocks  of  crows, 
ravens  and  blackbirds,  who  made  such  a  chatter  as  to 
drown  his  voice  ;  but  at  his  prayers,  and  the  repeated  sign 
of  the  cross,  they  flew  off  in  affright  and  returned  no  more. 

Gradually,  with  an  activity  that  never  wearied,  a  zeal 
that  never  grew  cool,  Bonifacius  planted  the  Christian 
religion  in  the  place  of  the  paganism  which  he  had  so 
forcibly  rooted  out.  He  became  the  head  of  the  Church 
in  Germany,  and  was  made  Archbishop  of  Mayence  by 
Gregory  III.  in  746.  During  the  internecine  wars  which 
followed  the  death  of  Charles  Martel,  his  influence  was 
potent  in  the  councils  of  the  Franks,  and  when  Childeric 
III.,  the  last  of  the  Merovingian  dynasty,  was  set  aside, 
his. hands  anointed  Pepin,  the  father  of  Charlemagne,  at 
Soissons,  in  752.  But  he  had  no  personal  ambition  to  be 
flattered  by  these  honors.  His  heart  yearned  for  a  renewal 
of  his  early  triumphs,  as  a  simple  missionary.  Laying 
down  the  archepiscopal  dignity,  he  set  out  for  Friesland, 
the  scene  of  his  earliest  labors.  The  wild  race  fell  upon 
his  little  party  with  sword  and  spear.  Holding  the  Bible 
before  him  as  his  -only  shield — relying,  perhaps,  upon  a 
miraculous  interposition  of  heavenly  aid — he  met  his  death, 
at  the  age  of  seventy-four,  after  a  life  without  a  blot,  the 
death  he  had  coveted  when  a  boy.  He  was  canonized,  but 
his  holiest  title  is  "  The  Apostle  of  Peace." 

In  Germany  a  thousand  years  seem  to  embrace  a  nar- 
rower cycle  than  two  hundred  years  in  America.  We  still 
see  the  primitive  race,  in  wampum,  moccasin  and  war-paint, 


A    HOME    IN   THE   THURINGIAN    FOREST.  265 

in  the  streets  of  'New  York ;  but  here,  the  footsteps  of  the 
ante-feudal  era  are  so  completely  washed  out,  the  grooves 
in  which  the  life  of  the  present  race  moves  are  so  old  and 
worn,  apparently  so  irrevocably  fixed,  that  we  look  back 
upon  the  long-haired,  half-naked  savages  of  the  seventh 
century,  as  if  they  were  cotemporaries  of  the  Egyptian 
Remesides.  In  throwing  out,  here  and  there,  a  thread  of 
comparative  chronology,  as  I  read  these  historical  fragments, 
I  find  myself  constantly  forgetting  that  our  history  covers 
so  small  a  portion  of  the  time,  and  that  Frederic  with  the 
Bitten  Cheek  was  not  a  cotemporary  of  Petrus  Stuy vesant. 
The  Seven  Years'  War,  here,  seems  no  farther  back  in  the 
Past  than  with  us  the  Missouri  Compromise.  The  explana- 
tion is,  perhaps,  that  we  live  more  in  the  same  length  of 
time. 

Let  me  look  out  of  the  window,  to  correct  the  digressive 
influences  of  my  contracted  study.  There  !  the  sight  of 
yonder  mountain,  where 

"  Like  black  priests,  in  order  slow, 
Round  and  round,  row  after  row, 
Up  and  up  the  pine-trees  go, 
And  so  down  on  the  other  side — " 

brings  me  back  to  the  story.  It  was  a  family  pilgrimage, 
in  which  the  whole  household,  servants  excluded,  took 
part.  A  donkey  was  procured  for  our  little  one  and  her 
Russian  cousin,  respectively  three  and  four  years  old,  the 
two  occupying  a  single  saddle,  upon  which  they  were  so 
tied  that  they  could  neither  fight  nor  fall  ofi^,  while  a  for- 
ward and  stupid  boy  held  the  bridle.     I  have  frequently 

12 


266  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

noticed  that  men  degenerate  by  continual  intercourse  with 
horses  (witness  grooms,  hackmeu  and  jockeys),  swapping 
their  good  traits  with  tlie  animal,  for  his  vices.  This  boy 
proved  the  same  with  regard  to  donkeys.  He  brayed  as 
continually,  and  concealed  a  talent  for  malicious  tricks 
under  a  like  aspect  of  innocent  stupidity.  However,  we 
Avere  too  much  interested  in  the  delight  of  the  children  to 
notice  such  traits  at  the  start. 

Passing  thi'ough  the  town,  we  followed  the  highway 
along  the  side  of  the  Kernberg,  aroimd  its  eastern  base, 
and  through  a  dark  wood  into  the  neighboring  valley. 
How  surprising  was  the  aspect  of  this  quiet  and  seclusion, 
in  contrast  with  the  lively  Friedrichsroda !  The  irregular 
valley-basin,  a  mile  in  diameter,  and  bounded  by  forests  on 
all  sides,  seemed  to  be  entirely  deserted.  The  picturesque 
little  village  of  Engelsbach,  in  the  centre,  was  finished  at 
least  a  century  ago,  and  has  stood  still  ever  since.  Now 
and  then  a  white-headed  child  popped  a  "  good  day !"  at 
us  from  the  window,  but  adult  inhabitants  were  not  to  be 
seen.  They  were  off  somewhere  in  the  "under-land,"  or 
far  up  in  the  Avoods.  No  girls  gossipped  around  the  foun- 
tain, and  the  tavern-sign  creaked  with  a  lonely  sound,  for 
the  lusty  beer-drinkers  failed. 

Some  sculptured  fragments  built  into  the  churchyard 
wall  attracted  my  attention  ;  but  my  hope  of  discovering 
media3val  relics  was  soon  dissipated.  Under  a  half-length 
bas-relief  of  a  man  with  incomplete  features  and  very 
angular  muscles  was  the  inscription:  "Adam.  1747." — 
while  a  similar  being,  with  the  addition  of  two  inverted 
tea-cups  between  her  arms,  was  designated  "  Eva."    They 


A    UUMK   IX   THE   TUiJKINGIAN    FOREST.  267 

were  the  work  of  a  pious  wood-cutter — an  unconscious 
Pre-Raphaelite. 

At  the  other  end  of  the  valley  we  found  a  toll-house, 
where  the  boy  was  obliged  to  pay  for  his  donkey.  Here,  you 
pass  a  toll-tree  about  every  four  miles,  but  you  have  the 
finest  roads  in  the  world.  From  Friedrichsroda  to  Gotha 
and  back  (twenty  miles  in  all)  the  toll  is  about  twenty-five 
cents  for  a  two-horse  carriage,  which  is  little  enough  for  a 
macadamized  highway,  good  in  all  weathers  and  at  all 
seasons.  Loose  cattle  are  also  tolled :  in  fact,  pedestrians 
are  the  only  exempts.  "  The  ass  pays  nothing,"  said  our 
gate-keeper.  "  How — nothing  ?"  "  Why,  because  he  can't 
carry  money :  the  boy  pays  for  him" — and  the  old  man 
grinned  with  delight  at  a  jest  which  he  had  already 
repeated  seven  hundred  times. 

The  way  to  Altenberga  led  through  delicious  pastoral 
landscapes.  Through  the  smooth,  emerald  meadows 
wound  brooks  shaded  with  alder  trees,  while  the  heights 
were  clothed  with  mingled  woods  of  oak  and  fir.  The 
villages  of  Altenberga  and  Catterfeld,  on  opposite  slopes, 
are  united  by  a  narrow  isthmus  of  hill,  on  the  highest 
point  of  which  stands  a  fine  old  church,  in  a  grove  of 
lindens.  Below  it,  the  drainage  of  the  mountains  forms 
a  pool,  reflecting  the  sky  in  a  sheet  of  darker  blue.  The 
.site  of  the  chapel  built  by  Bonifacius  is  on  the  summit  of 
the  mountain,  south  of  the  first-named  village.  Here,  in 
an  open  space,  surrounded  on  three  sides  by  the  forest,  is  a 
monument  of  sandstone,  thirty  feet  high,  in  the  form  of 
a  candlestick.  Its  existence  is  owing  to  the  zeal  of  a  pious 
miller,  with  whom  originated  the  idea  of  thus  commemo- 


268  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

rating  the  spot.  The  eccentric  Duke  August  of  Saxe- 
Gotha-Altenburg  designed  the  monument,  wliich  is  a  very 
heavy  candlestick  indeed.  The  gilded  flame  at  the  top  is 
divided  into  four  parts,  which,  as  there  is  no  doctrine  of  a 
Quaternity,  may  have  mystical  meaning  not  apparent  to 
us.  The  foundations  of  the  original  chapel  have  been  laid 
bare,  and  a  stone,  said  to  have  been  part  of  the  baptismal 
font,  stands  under  the  adjacent  trees  :  but  it  is  evidently  of 
a  much  later  date.  There  seems  to  be  no  doubt,  however,  as 
to  the  antiquity  of  the  foundation-walls,  which,  in  all  pro- 
bability, are  those  laid  by  the  Apostle. 

We  returned  more  rapidly  than  we  went,  on  account  of 
the  difference  of  the  donkey's  pace  towai'ds  home.  We 
passed  Engelsbach  and  turned  the  corner  of  the  Kern- 
berg,  whence  the  narrow  grain-fields  along  the  slope  of 
Reinhardtsberg,  which  they  covered  as  with  a  mantle  of 
striped  and  watered  silk,  were  visible,  gleaming  with  a 
truly  silken  lustre  in  the  evening  sunshine.  The  children, 
crowded  together  in  the  saddle,  had  exhausted  the  novelty 
of  the  ride,  and  were  growing  tired.  They  were  a  little 
in  advance  of  us,  and  we  did  not  notice  that  the  donkey- 
boy,  who  was  tying  on  a  hat  Avhich  one  of  them  had 
dropped,  had  carelessly  let  go  of  the  bridle.  All  at  once 
the  beast  sprang  forward,  and  in  a  second  was  out  of  the 
boy's  reach,  careering  at  full  gallop  along  the  highway. 
"  Run  for  your  life  !"  I  shouted  to  the  bewildered  fellow, 
following  him  as  fast  as  my  strength  could  carry  me.  The 
terrified  children  screamed  as  they  were  violently  tossed  to 
and  fro,  helpless  and  happily  unaware  of  the  fearful  peril. 
I  ran,  as  it  were,  between  Death  and  Despair.     Behind 


A   HOME   IN   THE  THUKINGIAN  FOEEST.  269 

me,  the  frantic  cries  of  two  mothers  ;  before  me,  the  two 
young  lives,  flung  from  side  to  side,  as  by  a  wind,  which  at 
any  moment  might  blow  them  out  for  ever. 

The  sight  sickened  me  with  a  dread  which  I  never  felt 
before,  and  yet  I  could  not  turn  away  my  eyes.  One  toss 
on  the  highway,  hard  as  stone — one  more  bound,  and  the 
fate  might  come  !  And  with  all  the  speed  which  my  des- 
peration could  give  me,  I  came  no  nearer.  The  cries 
ceased :  Avas  it  from  terror,  or  a  cause  I  dared  not  suspect  ? 
Something  hung  from  the  saddle — but  no !  let  me  draw  a 
veil  over  the  torture  of  those  few  moments.  I  had  run 
upwards  of  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  and  felt,  with  a  pang  of 
despair,  that  my  strength  would  soon  begin  to  fail,  when 
the  donkey  slackened  his  pace.  The  boy  soon  caught  and 
stopped  him,  and  I  saw,  as  I  approached,  that  the  saddle 
was  half-turned,  and  the  children  were  hanging  nearly  to 
the  ground.  To  cut  the  fastenings  which  held  them,  to 
catch  them  in  my  arms,  and  set  them  on  their  feet  to 
determine  whether  any  limbs  were  broken — all  this  hap- 
pened I  scarcely  know  how.  Thank  God  for  a  miracle ! 
our  darlings  were  unharmed.  Shaken,  stunned,  and  terri- 
fied, they  were  yet  able  to  stand,  and  I  stepped  aside  that 
the  mothers  might  see  their  safety  before  they  came. 

"We  walked  back  to  the  cottage,  silent  and  shuddering. 
The  transition  from  our  careless  security  to  an  almost  hope- 
less horror,  and  our  release  from  the  latter,  had  been 
equally  sudden.  The  current  of  our  lives  flowed  onward 
in  its  accustomed  channel,  but  it  had  passed  over  a  bed  of 
ice,  and  retained  the  chill.  We  had  beheld  the  "  Vision 
of  Sudden  Death." 


STO  AT   HOME    AXD    ABROAD. 

As  we  came  upon  the  height  where  our  cottage  stands, 
the  sun  breaking  through  a  bank  of  clouds,  poured  an 
unspeakable  glory  upon  the  landscape.  Over  the  fir-woods 
of  the  Kernberg  gushed  a  torrent  of  golden  fire,  and  the 
summit-trees  stood  like  flickering  spires  of  flame  against  a 
background  of  storm.  Out  of  blue  shadow,  so  clear  that  it 
seemed  a  softer  light,  rose  the  burning  basalt  of  the  "  Praise- 
God,"  with  a  magnificent  fragment  of  rainbow  based  ujjon 
its  pointed  peak.  Strong  and  dazzling,  painted  in  intensest 
light,  and  crowned  with  an  altar-flame  of  sevenfold  color, 
the  mountain  concentrated  in  itself  the  splendor  of  the 
dying  day.  But  in  name  and  in  lustre,  it  was  a  faint  sym- 
bol of  that  feeling  within  us  which  measured  the  mercy 
of  our  deliverance  by  the  depth  of  the  abyss  into  which 
we  had  gazed.  That  flaming  evangel  of  the  sunset  found 
itself  already  written  on  our  hearts — not  to  fade  as  the 
rainbow  faded,  not  to  narrow  itself  away  as  the  gleam  from 
the  darkening  forests.  And  that  night  our  unconscious 
darling  fell  asleep  with  a  halo  around  her  Lead,  and  the 
wings  of  a  closer  and  humbler  tenderness  enfolding  her. 


9. — The  Forest  and  rrs  Legends. 

July  24,  1861. 

A  week  of  walks  and  excursions — of  visits  and  domestic 

fdtes — of  song  and  tradition,  of  historic  legend  so  ideal,  and 

pure  romance  so  real,  in  their  reciprocal  tints,  that  the  chief 

personages  of  both  walk  hand  in  hand  through  our  dreams ! 


A    HOME    IN   THE   THlJRIN'GTAN    FOREST.  271 

How  Is  it  possible  to  keep  the  record  of  these  days  ?  An 
author  writes,  generally,  from  the  deai*th  of  that  which  he 
desires  :  where  life  gives  it  to  him  in  overflowing  measure, 
he  enjoys  and  is  silent.  I  know  of  a  youth,  the  son  of  a 
distinguished  poet,  who  was  laughed  at  for  saying  :  "  No, 
I  shall  not  lorite  poems,  though  I  inherit  the  faculty ;  but  I 
am  going  to  do  a  much  finer  and  rarer  thing — ^I  shall  live  a 
poem  !"  Now  the  youth  was  not  so  far  wronj^  in  his 
notions ;  but  he  ovei'looked  the  fiict  that  a  poem  in  life  is 
as  little  the  result  of  a  cool  resolution,  as  a  poem  in  lan- 
guage. This  much  is  true,  howcA-er — that  the  poetic  epi- 
sodes in  our  own  experience  are  worth  more  to  us  than  all 
the  poems  we  write  or  read.  I  would  not  give  my  day  in 
the  Acropolis  for  all  Childe  Harold,  nor  that  one  chapter 
of  the  Arabian  Nights  which  I  lived,  in  Aleppo,  for  the 
entire  Thousand  and  One. 

Halt,  hippogriff,  that  champest  the  bit,  scenting  the 
Orient  afar  off!  And  you,  ye  Muses,  even  now  buckling 
his  girth,  and  putting  on  your  sandals  for  the  shining  high- 
way— unsaddle,  and  turn  him  loose,  to  graze  for  awhile  in 
these  green  Thliringian  meadows !  Here  there  is  still  fresh 
pasture :  not  the  voluptuous  breath  of  the  musky  rose,  or 
the  tulip's  goblets  of  blood  and  fire,  but  sprinkled  hare- 
bells, as  if  the  summer  sky  had  rained  its  color  upon  the 
mountains,  blood-pinks,  which  spring  up  wherever  a  knight 
was  murdered,  in  the  old  feudal  times,  and  scentless  heath- 
er, the  delight  of  fairies.  Here,  in  some  wild  nook,  still 
grows  the  enchanted  Key-flower — the  golden  lily  of  Fable, 
which  opens  to  him  who  plucks  it  the  diamond  halls  of  the 
gnomes.     The  day  of  departure  will  come  but  too  soon : 


272  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

let  US  gather  a  few  more  blossoms  for  the  wreath  we  shall 
hancr  over  our  cottagfe-door ! 

I  have  been  struck,  in  reading  the  legends  of  the  Forest, 
with  the  family  likeness  which  they  present,  in  its  different 
districts.  The  repetition  of  the  same  story,  in  various  loca- 
lities, would  seem  to  indicate  a  very  remote  antiquity  of 
origin.  It  is  not  likely  that  one  neighborhood  would  bor- 
row of  another,  but  the  fragments  of  the  original  tribe, 
migrating  hither,  and  scattering  themselves  among  the 
valleys,  would  preserve  the  common  legendary  stock,  and 
gradually  attach  it  to  their  several  homes.  The  legend  of 
the  Key-flower,  one  of  the  most  beautiful,  is  thus  found  in 
a  number  of  places.  Sometimes  the  blossom  is  of  a  won- 
derful golden  color  :  sometimes  it  is  blue  or  purple :  but  the 
story  is  the  same.  A  herdsman  sees  the  flower  on  the 
mountain.  Attracted  by  its  beauty,  he  plucks  it  and  puts 
it  in  his  hat.  Immediately  he  perceives  an  open  door  in 
the  mountain-side.  The  passage  conducts  him  to  an  im- 
mense subterranean  hall,  sparkling  with  its  heaps  of  gold 
and  jewels.  A  gray-bearded  gnome,  the  guardian  of  these 
treasures,  says  to  him :  "  Take  what  you  want,  but  don't 
forget  the  best !"  He  fills  his  pockets,  his  bosom,  and  final- 
ly his  hat,  the  old  gnome  still  crying :  "  don't  forget  the 
best !  The  flower  falls  upon  the  earth,  but  he  hastens  away 
^vithout  noticing  it.  "  Don't  forget  the  best !"  shouts  the 
gnome  for  the  last  time.  There  is  a  clap  of  thunder,  and 
tlie  herdsman  rushes  to  the  open  air,  the  gates  banging  be- 
hind him.  The  door  has  disappeared  ;  the  gold  and  jewels 
are  nothing  but  dry  leaves.  He  has  forgotten  the  best — the 
enchanted  Key-flower,  by  the  possession  of  which  his  gold 


A    HOME    IX   THE   THUKINGIAN    FOREST.  2*73 

would  have  remained  gold,  and  the  doors  opened  to  him  as 
often  as  he  might  choose  to  come.  He  never  sees  it  again. 
The  legend  of  Tannhauser,  the  home  of  which  we  can  see 
from  any  of  the  heights  near  us,  has  gone  around  the  world, 
and  I  need  not  repeat  it.  There  are  some  curious  local 
superstitions  connected  with  it,  and  the  story  seems  to  have 
heen  confounded  by  the  peasants  with  another  and  earlier 
legend.  The  "  Yenus"  of  Tannhauser  becomes  identified 
in  their  mouths,  with  "  Frau  Holle,"  who  evidently  belongs 
to  the  Pagan  period — perhaps  the  Hela  of  Scandinavian 
mythology.  When  it  snows,  the  people  say  :  "  Frau  Holle 
is  plucking  her  geese."  Occasionally,  in  the  winter,  she 
leads  a  chase  of  airy  hounds,  like  the  Wild  Huntsman  of 
the  Odenwald.  Wo  to  him  who  should  dare  to  look  on 
this  infernal  rout !  His  head  would  be  instantly  twisted 
around,  and  his  face  would  look  behind  him  for  the  rest  of 
his  days.  But  the  faithful  Eckart,  the  squire  of  Tannhau- 
ser, who  sits  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  awaiting  his  master's 
return,  always  goes  forth — in  the  shape  of  an  old  man  Avith 
staff  and  silver  beard — in  advance  of  the  wild  chase,  and 
warns  those  whom  he  meets  to  throw  themselves  on  their 
faces  until  it  has  passed  by. 

In  the  Venus-Mountain — ^but  two  hours'  drive  from  our 
cottage — there  is  really  a  cavern,  which  has  not  yet  been 
thoroughly  explored,  so  far  as  I  can  leani.  Peasants  who 
have  ventui'ed  into  the  entrance,  of  course  report  that  they 
see  the  figure  of  Eckart  sitting  in  the  dusky  shades  beyond. 
Two  or  three  centuries  ago,  the  story  runs,  a  number  of 
boys  who  were  pasturing  horses  on  the  mountain,  agreed 
to  go  in  and  explore  the  secrets  of  the  cave.    Turning  loose 

12* 


2'74  AT    HOME   Aim    AHROAD. 

their  horses,  they  took  the  bridles,  attached  themselves  to 
one  another,  in  single  file,  and  boldly  entered.  But,  as  the 
daylight  disappeared  behind  them,  the  last  boy  in  the  line 
was  seized  with  a  dread  so  powerful  that  he  cut  the  thong, 
and  stood  still,  watching  the  light  of  the  splints  they  had 
kindled  disappear,  one  by  one,  in  the  bowels  of  the  eartli. 
Then  he  crept  back  towards  the  entrance,  calling  loudly 
and  fearfully  on  his  lost  companions.  They  never  returned. 
The  boy  Avas  found  at  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  at  twilight, 
by  the  alarmed  peasants ;  but  he  steadily  pined  away  from 
that  hour,  and  died  in  a  few  months.  The  noises  which  at 
times  issue  from  the  cavern  add  to  the  terror  with  which  it 
is  still  regarded.  The  author  Bechstein,  whom  no  one 
would  accuse  of  an  excess  of  imagination,  states  that  once, 
when  standing  on  the  mountain,  he  was  surprised  by  a  sud- 
den subterranean  roar,  like  that  of  a  mighty  cataract,  the 
cause  of  which  he  was  utterly  unable  to  discover. 

—  Thus,  in  the  mornings,  we  read  history  and  legend : 
in  the  afternoons,  we  wander  off  to  some  point  which  they 
celebrate.  We  have  climbed  to  the  Schauenburg,  the  fast- 
ness of  Ludwig  the  Bearded,  first  Landgrave  of  Thtiringin, 
luring  even  the  little  one  up  to  the  height,  by  the  discovery 
of  a  wild  strawberry,  here  and  there.  Buried  in  harebells 
and  heather,  we  watched  the  shadows  of  the  clouds  and 
mountains  fold  themselves  over  the  broad,  sunny  landscape, 
now  quenching  the  castle  of  Gotha,  now  disclosing  the 
sparkling  house  on  the  Seeberg,  and  finally  filling  with 
evening-smoke  the  valley  of  Friedrichsroda.  Nothing  of 
the  Schauenburg  remains,  except  the  foundation  of  one  of 
the  round  towers.     Invisible  herdsmen,  far  acioss  the  deep 


A    nOME    IN    THE   THUillNGIAN   FOREST.  275 

gulfs  of  the  hills,  answered  our  sliouts,  and  the  musical 
chime  of  a  thousand  bells,  faintly  flung  upon  our  ears  by 
the  wandering  puffs  of  air,  seemed  the  very  voice  of  the 
Earth,  humming  to  herself  some  happy  strain  of  the  sum- 
mer. 

Then,  there  was  the  Baron's  birth-day,  when  we  met  the 
jubilant  family  at  the  Hunters'  Rest,  and  walked  three 
miles  along  the  ^vooded  comb  of  the  Forest,  led  by  B.,  the 
mighty  liunter.  We  were  bound  for  the  Glassback  Rock, 
a  lonely  ledge  on  the  Plessian  side  of  the  mountains,  known 
but  to  few,  and  hard  to  find.  B.  confidently  took  the  lead, 
but,  meeting  with  a  forester  who  reported  a  stag  in  the 
neighborhood,  the  two  darted  off  together  into  the  woods. 
The  remainder  of  us,  thus  forsaken,  became  entangled  in 
the  wood-paths,  uncertain  whether  to  advance  or  fall  back. 
Our  combined  shout  was  sufficient  to  frighten  any  stag 
within  a  mile's  distance,  and  the  result  was  soon  manifest, 
in  the  return  of  the  two  indignant  hunters. 

We  sat  ujion  the  Glassback  Rock,  hanging  over  fifty 
miles  of  mountain  landscape,  singing  the  peasant  sougs  of 
Thuringia,  and  staining  our  clothes  with  crushed  whortle- 
berries. B.,  however,  was  determined  to  have  a  stag  before 
sunset,  and  hurried  us  back,  through  one  of  the  most  ex- 
quisite sylvan  dells  in  the  world.  At  the  Hunters'  Rest,  a 
long  table  was  set  in  the  open  air,  and  the  balmy  odor  of 
boiled  potatoes  greeted  us.  Butter  as  sweet  as  new  chest- 
nuts, with  the  creamy,  honeycombed  cheese  of  Swiss  val- 
leys and  ruddy  Westphalian  ham,  studded  the  board,  and 
the  Baron,  as  he  caught  sight  of  certain  slendei"  urns  of 
purple  and  green,  began  to  sing : — 


276  AT    HOME    AXI)    ABROAD. 

"  So  crown  with  leaves  the  dear,  the  brimming  beaker, 
And  drain  its  hquid  bliss : 
Search  P^urope  over,  jovial  nectar-seeker, 
There's  no  such  wine  as  this  I" 

Crack  !  went  a  rifle  in  a  neighboring  copse,  before  even  the 
birth-day  health  had  been  drunk.  Presently  we  saw  B., 
flourishing  his  gray  hunter's  hat,  followed  by  two  of  his 
sons,  with  rifle  and  powder-flask,  and  the  forester,  bearing 
a  tawny  load.  To  him  the  potatoes  Avere  sweeter,  and  the 
wine  more  inspiring,  than  to  any  of  us.  Then  followed 
leap-frog  among  the  men  and  boys,  with  various  games 
wherein  the  ladies  could  take  part,  and  thus  the  dew-fall 
came  unawares,  warning  us  down  the  mountain-side. 

Our  most  recent  exploit  is  the  ascent  of  the  Inselsberg 
in  a  hay-wagon,  by  moonlight.  Our  departure  from  the 
cottage  was  postponed  so  long  that  no  other  vehicle  could 
be  obtained.  The  clumsy,  bone-shattering  afiair  was  drawn 
by  an  old  gray  horse,  driven  by  a  peasant  in  a  green  blouse. 
The  last  streak  of  sunset  burned  on  Kyff'hiiuser,  the  castle 
of  Barbarossa,  and  the  Golden  Mead,  as  we  reached  the 
crest  of  the  mountain ;  but  the  moon  was  already  in  the 
sky,  and  for  three  hours  our  course  lay  through  an  enchanted 
realm.  The  air  was  breathless,  and,  to  our  surprise,  far 
warmer  and  balmier  than  in  the  valleys  ;  the  brown  shadows 
of  beeches  and  firs,  on  our  road,  belted  the  silver  of  the 
moon  ;  and  far  down,  on  either  side,  glimmered  a  dim,  blue, 
mysterious  world.  Snake-like  wreaths  of  vapor  crept  along 
the  courses  of  the  streams ;  the  distant  forests  lay  like 
flecks  of  cloud,  and  tlie  horizon  was  girdled  with  a  lumi- 
nous belt.    It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  we  reached  the  house 


A    HOME    IN    TIIK   TUlJltlNGIAN    FOREST.  277 

on  the  summit,  Avhich  Avas  so  thronged  with  guests  that  the 
kind  hostess  was  obliged  to  give  us  her  own  room. 

We  descended  by  way  of  the  Portal  Rock  into  the 
Monsters'  Ravine.  Of  course  we  stopped  at  Henneberg's 
Mill  for  a  draught  of  beer.  "  Give  it  to  the  little  one !" 
said  the  green  coachman,  "  it's  good  for  children.  Why, 
I  have  a  child  that  had  to  be  weaned  at  six  months,  and 
we  gave  it  as  much  beer  as  cow's-milk.  It's  thirty  years 
old  now,  and  has  so  much  forsch  (force)  and  so  much 
schpritt  (esprit)  that  you  wouldn't  believe !  It  seems  to 
feel  the  good  o'  the  beer  yet !"  We  laughed  heartily  at 
this,  not  so  much  at  the  idea  of  "  bringing  up  by  hand''  on 
beer,  as  at  the  comical  effect  of  the  Germanized  French 
words,  which  are  handed  down  among  the  peasants  from 
the  Napoleonic  times. 

The  term  "  Forest"  here  represents  something  very 
different  from  our  wild  woods  in  America.  A  western 
settler,  fresh  from  his  girdled  clearings,  would  be  amazed, 
at  finding  these  wooded  mountains  more  carefully  looked 
after  than  his  own  garden-patch.  There  is  not  a  nook  in 
the  whole  length  and  breadth  of  the  chain,  that  is  not 
regularly  visited  and  guarded — where  the  trees  are  not 
counted,  measured,  and  subjected  to  sanitary  inspection. 
When  a  trunk  is  ripe,  anywhere,  down  it  comes.  But  as 
for  a  stump  to  tell  where  it  stood,  such  shameful  waste  is 
unknown  here.  The  roots  are  carefully  extracted,  down 
to  the  very  fangs,  the  earth  smoothed,  and  a  young  tree 
set  in  the  place.  You  sometimes  overlook  miles  of  forest, 
on  the  steepest  slopes,  every  tree  of  which  was  planted. 
The    straight   rows,   converging   from   the   base   towards 


278  AT    HOME    AND    ABUOAD. 

the  summit,  or  slanting  obliquely  along  the  side  in 
regular  parallels,  are  not  agreeable  to  the  eye.  These 
artificial  signs  disappear  as  the  trees  become  older,  but 
the  forest  never  entirely  recovers  the  unstudied  grace  of 
nature. 

So  carefully  is  this  wood-culture  fostered,  that  it  is  pro- 
hibited to  break  a  branch,  or  pull  up  a  young  seedling. 
The  Forest  is  the  property  of  the  State,  and  quite  an  army 
of  woodmen  is  necessary  in  order  to  look  after  its  interests. 
The  amount  of  Avood  felled  every  year  is  carefully  propor- 
tioned to  the  growth,  so  that  the  main  stock  is  never  dimi- 
nished. In  some  districts  the  finer  twigs  and  roots  are  the 
perquisites  of  the  adjacent  villages,  and  quite  an  interesting 
discussion  is  going  on  at  this  time,  between  some  of  the 
latter  and  the  State,  as  to  the  precise  point  whore  the 
trunk  terminates  and  the  root  begins.  From  eighty  to  a 
hundred  and  twenty  years,  according  to  the  locality,  is  the 
time  required  for  the  maturity  of  the  trees. 

When  we  consider  that  game,  also,  comes  under  the 
same  regulations,  we  must  call  the  entire  mountain-range 
of  the  Thtiringian  Forest  a  park  on  the  grandest  possible 
scale.  We  lose,  it  is  true,  the  charm  of  wild,  tangled, 
irregular  woods — of  tracts  of  wilderness  over  which  still 
hovers  the  atmosphere  of  exploration — of  that  utter  seclu- 
sion which  comes  from  the  absence  of  any  trace  of  man  ; 
but,  on  the  other  hand,  we  have,  everywhere, — on  moun- 
tain-top and  in  remotest  glen — the  accessibility  of  a  garden, 
the  warm  atmosphere  of  care  and  culture,  and  the  con- 
trary, but  equal  charm,  of  the  nearness  of  man.  Centuries 
must  elapse  before  any  system  of  this  kind  can  be  neces- 


A    HOME   IN   THE    THURINGIAN   FOREST.  279 

sary  in  America.     It  is  the  difference  between  a  settlement 
of  two  hundred  and  two  thousand  years. 

Meanwhile,  let  me  rejoice  in  the  fact  that  I  have  tailor 
oaks  of  my  own,  at  home,  than  any  I  have  seen  here  ;  that  my 
tulip-trees,  a  hundred  feet  high,  are  masses  of  starry  bloom, 
while  the  single  stars^eling  specimen  at  Reinhardtsbrnnn 
never  blossoms ;  and  that  my  chestnuts  stand  twenty-four 
feet  in  girth,  while  here  they  cannot  grow !  In  the  Philo- 
sophy of  Compensation  one  finds  the  surest  source  of 
contentment. 


1 0. — Day-Dreams — Departure. 

July  31,  1861. 

"  Must  I  leave  thee.  Paradise  ?"  says  Milton's  Eve  ;  but 
on  this  last  day  of  our  cottage-life  in  the  mountains,  I,  the 
Adam  of  our  temporary  Eden,  ask  the  same  regretful 
question.  Our  fate  is  fixed.  No  amount  of  rent,  paid  in 
advance,  will  enable  us  to  tarry  longer  on  the  banks  of  the 
Four  Rivers:  the  cherub  has  warned  us,  and  the  flaming 
sword  which  he  carries,  to  drive  us  away,  is  a  previous 
lease  of  the  cottage  to  an  English  family,  who  take  posses- 
sion to-morrow.  We  have  been  whirled  for  a  month  into 
a  quiet  eddy,  where  our  waves  have  been  still  enough  to 
mirror  the  flowers  on  the  banks.  Now  the  roaring  stream 
takes  us  again. 

Why  should  it  take  us  at  all?  Why  should  we  not 
regulate  our  lives  in  accordance  with  the  common  sense  of 
our  own  natures,  whether  or  not  it  chimes  in  with  the  com- 


280  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

men  sense  of  the  world  ?  On  every  side  we  see  blossoms 
that  only  seem  to  wait  for  our  plucking ;  every  wind  brings 
us  their  betraying  odors  ;  yet  we  turn  away,  and  go  on 
with  our  old  business  of  pulling  thistles,  no  matter  how 
our  hands  bleed.  A  great  portion  of  our  lives  is  spent  in 
achieving  something  that  we  do  not  actually  need.  If 
Wealth — the  chief  result  is,  that  we  leave  our  children  more 
than  is  wholesome  for  them  :  if  Fame,  the  "  bad  picture  and 
Avorse  bust "  grin  at  us  their  derisive  answer  :  if  Power, 
we  give  up  the  sanctity  of  life,  and  allow  a  thousand 
curious  or  malicious  eyes  to  peer  into  our  dressing-room. 
Now,  wealth  that  is  won  without  too  exhausting  a  strug- 
gle, fame  that  comes  unsought,  and  power  unconsciously 
exercised,  are  things  to  be  desired;  but  they  are  gifts 
which  only  some  chosen  favorite  of  Fortune  receives,  and 
we  must  gauge  our  expectations  by  the  common  experience 
of  man. 

On  the  ridge,  between  our  cottage  and  the  Felsenkelle.r, 
there  is  a  granite  block,  whereon  you  read  :  "  In  the  cheer- 
ful evening  of  life  walked  here,  grateful  to  God,  Frederic 
Perthes."  It  is  one  of  those  memorials  which  you  never 
find  but  in  Germany.  Elsewhere,  the  dead  body  is  re- 
corded, not  the  joys,  or  triumphs,  or  the  tranquil  happiness 
of  the  living  man.  The  universal  record  simply  tells  you 
the  individual  has  ceased  to  exist :  here  you  learn  where  he 
lived,  enjoyed,  and  was  grateful.  The  mellow  glow  of  his 
cheerful  evening  of  life,  not  the  damp  chill  of  his  tomb, 
lingers  upon  the  spot.  Thus,  on  a  house  in  the  Rosenau, 
near  Leipzig,  you  read  :  "  Here  Schiller  wrote  his  Hymn 
to  Joy."     Give  me  some  such  inscription  of  a  moment  of 


A    HOME    IN   THE   TUUKINGIAN    FOKEST.  281 

full,  inspired  life,  and  I  will  be  satisfied  with  a  nameless 
grave ! 

Around  this  monument  of  Perthes,  the  grass  is  bright 
with  harebells  and  daisies.  On  one  side,  you  look  down 
upon  Friedrichsroda,  and  past  the  basaltic  cone  of  the 
Praise-God  into  the  deep  green  glen  behind  ;  on  the  other, 
upon  the  park  of  Reinhardtsbrunn,  abutting  against  the 
lofty  Abbot's  Mountain,  beyond  which  rises  the  Evil 
Mountain,  dark  and  lowering.  The  sweetest  winds  of  the 
Forest  reach  this  spot,  and  thence  you  have  the  loveliest 
pictures  of  sunset.  Here,  say  we,  let  us  build  a  cottage  of 
our  own — a  little  ark  of  refuge  whither  we  may  fly,  at 
intervals,  from  the  stormy  life  of  our  American  home,  from 
the  brightness  of  its  newer  heaven  and  earth,  to  enjoy  the 
contrast  of  this  intense  quiet,  this  veiled  atmosphere  of  the 
Past.  Here  is  an  air  in  which  my  unwritten  poems  may 
ripen  :  where  something  worthy  of  the  divine  art  may  be 
reached — something  which  men  may  take  to  their  hearts 
and  cherish  for  its  loveliness.  Then,  if  any  one,  long 
afterwards,  should  place  a  tablet  over  the  cottage-door,  or 
a  head-stone  upon  its  site,  saying:  "  Here  he  wrote,"  my 
memory  would  become  a  portion  of  the  cheerfulness  and 
the  delight  of  others,  not  of  their  grave  and  solemn 
thoughts. 

But,  alas  !  how  many  castles  of  this  sort  have  I  builded 
— and  only  one,  as  yet,  stands  realized  in  stone  and  mortar ! 
I  have  a  tropical  home  on  the  mountain  terrace  of  Jalapa, 
embowered  in  cofi*ee-trees,  with  a  view  of  Orizaba  from  my 
study-window.  I  have  a  palace  on  the  lower  slope  of  Etna, 
with  hanging  gardens  of  aloe,  orange,  and  palm — a  Moor- 


282  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

ish  tower,  ovei'looking  the  Vega  of  Granada,  and  an  empty 
tomb  (cleansed  of  bats),  in  the  limestone  crags  of  Goorneh, 
with  the  plain  of  Thebes  at  my  feet.  Then,  there  is  my 
little  ranche  in  the  valley  of  San  Jose,  in  the  jierfect  atmo- 
sphere of  California !  How  to  pluck  these  aromatic  blos- 
soms from  the  rough,  prickly  stem  of  life  ?  Ample  means 
might  do  it,  but  where  would  be  the  sweet  satisfaction  of  a 
home,  or  the  full  maturity  of  mind,  the  want  of  which 
is  one's  chief  source  of  unrest  ?  If  an  oyster  could  change 
his  shell,  at  pleasure,  I  presume  there  would  be  no  pearls. 
Yes,  but  the  pearl  is  a  disease,  you  say :  art,  literature, 
science,  you  may  add,  flow  from  restless  and  unsatisfied 
natures.  "Why  not  take  the  existence  this  planet  offers,  in 
all  its  richest  and  loveliest  phases,  and  thus  make  Life  itself 
your  art  and  your  passion  ? 

Because  I  cannot.  Give  me  means,  time,  freedom  from 
restraining  ties — still  I  cannot.  Leave  the  Christian  idea 
of  Duty  out  of  sight — separate  the  question  from  its  moral 
aspects — still,  we  are  so  constituted  that  our  truest  enjoy- 
ment comes  throtigh  the  force  of  contrast.  We  receive 
delight  from  Nature,  not  by  passive  sensation,  but  from 
faculties  whose  activity  is  not  limited  by  such  delight — 
faculties  which  will  not  allow  us  to  be  still  and  enjoy. 
Why  should  I  not  sit,  with  folded  hands,  and  be  satisfied 
with  feeling  these  thoughts  lazily  ripple  along  the  shores  o? 
the  mind,  instead  of  grappling  with  language,  and  achiev- 
ing, at  best,  an  imperfect  expression  ?  Because  the  strug- 
gle is  necessary,  in  order  to  give  colierent  shape  to  thought. 
You  may  imagine  any  amount  of  perfect  statues  in  the 
marble  quarry,  but  your  true  joy  is  in  the  slow  result  of 


A    HOME   IN"   THE   THUKINGIAN   FOREST.  283 

the  chisel.     Expression  rewards  one,  not  only  by  the  sense 
of  something  accomplished,  but  by  giving  palpable  form 
and  visible  color  to  the  vague  delight  of  the  mind. 
Nature,  thus,  provides  against 

"  pampering  the  coward  heart 
"With  feehngs  all  too  delicate  for  use." 

The  Sybarites,  I  suspect,  were  the  most  peevish  and  un- 
happy creatures  of  their  time.  For  my  part,  I  know  per- 
fectly well  that  if  I  could  build  my  cottage,  and  remain  here, 
even  engaged  in  healthy  study,  I  should  finally  miss  the 
encounter  with  other  minds,  the  breezy  agitation  of  com- 
plex life,  in  some  of  the  great  Vanity  Fairs  of  the  world. 
So  the  day-dream  fades :  but  it  is  not  too  much  to  substi- 
tute such  an  occasional  holiday  for  the  flashy  aims  wherein 
others  find  their  happiness.  We  have  made  oiir  home  here, 
for  instance,  at  a  lower  expenditure  than  a  month  in  the 
whirlpool  of  Saratoga  would  require.  I  am  willing  that  my 
fashionable  friends  should  say :  "  Poor  fellow !  he  cannot 
keep  a  carriage,"  so  long  as  I  can  reply,  "  Yes,  but  I  keep 
a  cottage.''  "What  if  I  cannot  give  balls,  while  I  can  give 
sunsets,  and  twilights,  and  summer  moons  to  my  friends ! 
We  have  served  up  the  superb  mountain  landscape,  in  all 
lights,  to  our  visitors  from  the  neighboring  city,  and  I  am 
sure  they  regret  our  departure. 

Here,  then,  is  an  end  to  a  quiet  which  has  been  all  the 
sweeter,  because  it  was  imsought.  I  hear,  already,  the 
grating  of  the  upper  and  nether  mill-stones  of  every-day 
life,  and  prepare  to  jump  into  the  hopper.  Trumpets  peal 
from  across  the  Atlantic,  and  this  pure  air  of  Peace  chokes 


284  AT    HOME    AND    ABKOAI). 

me  while  my  brethren  are  breathing  the  dust  of  battle.  I 
drop  the  painted  cards,  wherewith  I  have  been  building  up 
an  imaginary  existence,  and  return  to  the  rough  bricks  and 
gritty  mortar  which  await  uie.  As  I  hear  our  beloved  flag 
flapping  from  the  cottage-gable,  I  feel  how  much  more  than 
by  years  of  splendid  indolence  in  the  fairest  regions  of  the 
Earth  has  my  life  been  enriched  by  participation  in  one  of 
the  most  important  crises  of  History — how  grand  a  thing 
it  is  to  have  seen,  once  in  one's  life,  an  aroused,  inspired  and 
unselfish  People !  It  is,  thus,  not  reluctantly,  but  with  a 
solemn  joy,  that  I  return,  to  be  present  when  Ormuzd  and 
Ahriman — the  Powers  of  Light  and  Darkness — fight  for  the 
mastery  of  a  Continent ! 


Evening. 
In  half  an  hour  the  postillion  will  be  here.  Our  personal 
effects  are  packed  up,  and  the  bedding,  kitchen  utensils  and 
table  furniture  (the  silver  spoons  carefully  counted)  are  at 
the  service  of  the  new-comers.  The  little  one  has  run 
around  the  garden  for  the  last  time,  and  has  no  doubt  pulled 
the  last  fat  gooseberry  from  the  despoiled  bushes.  Our 
flag  has  been  taken  down,  rolled  up  and  sent  to  Dr.  K.,  with 
an  immense  dispatch  (sealed  with  a  double  Prussian  tha- 
ler)— a  copy  of  which  I  give : 

"  WE, 
B.  T.,  by  the  grace  of  God  Citizen  of  the  United  States  of 
America,  have  found  Ourself  favorably  moved,  and  here, 
with  graciously  decree,  that  our  worthy  friend,  Dr.  T.  K. 
be  appointed  our  Minister  Plenipotentiary  and  Ambassador 
Extraordinary  to  the  city  of  Friedrichsroda ;  empowering 


A    HOME    IX   THE   THUKINGIAN    FOREST.  285 

him,  in  times  of  danger,  to  place  himself  under  the  protec- 
tion of  our  national  flag ;  to  display  the  same  on  all  public 
occasions,  in  token  of  his  diplomatic  character,  and  in  asser- 
tion of  his  neutrality,  in  case  of  foreign  invasion.  Further, 
we  herewith  warn  all  authorities,  whatever  they  may  be, 
against  interfering  with  the  rights  and  powers  hereby 
granted  to  him,  since  such  interference  would  provoke  our 
extreme  displeasure,  and  might  result  in  serious  complica- 
tions between  Powers  hitherto  friendly.  . 

"  Given  at  Friedrichsroda,  this  31st  day  of  July,  A.  D. 
1861.'' 

I  have  no  doubt  that  the  good  Dr.  will  justify  the  extra- 
ordinary confidence  wherewith  he  has  been  invested.  And 
now,  farewell !  The  postillion's  bugle,  sounding  nearer  as 
he  climbs  the  hill,  warns  us  with  the  unrestful  melody ; 

"  A  rose  in  his  hat  and  a  staff  in  his  hand, 
The  pilgrim  must  wander,  from  land  unto  land^ 
Through  many  a  city,  o'er  many  a  plain : 
But  ah,  he  must  leave  them,  must  wander  again  I" 


IV. 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FRANCONIAN  SWIT- 
ZERLAND. 

Every  one  has  heard  of  Franconia — the  old  Frankenland, 
or  Land  of  the  Franks — ^but  as  no  branch  of  knowledge 
which  we  acquire  at  school  is  so  neglected  in  after-life  as 
geography,  it  will  do  no  harm  if  I  explicitly  describe  its 
position.  F'ranconia  occupies  the  very  heart  of  Germany, 
and,  consequently,  of  Eui'ope,  so  far  as  the  rivers  of  the 
continent  fix  its  central  point.  Springs,  which  rise  within 
a  circle  two  miles  in  diameter,  send  their  waters  to  the 
Black  Sea,  the  German  Ocean,  and  the  British  Channel. 
Draw  a  line  from  Nuremberg  to  Dresden,  and  another 
from  Hanover  to  Ratisbon,  on  the  Danube,  and  their  inter- 
section will  give  you,  very  nearly,  the  centre  of  Franconia. 
The  Frankish  Mountains  are  an  offshoot  of  that  long  irre- 
gular chain,  which,  leaving  the  Rhine  as  it  issues  from  the 
Lake  of  Constance,  forms  a  vast  curve  through  the  very 
heart  of  Europe,  embracing  the  Black  Forest,  the  Oden- 
wald,  Spessart,  the  Rhon,  the  Thiiringia  Forest,  the  Erzge- 
birge,  the  Giant's  Mountains,  and  the   Carpathians   and 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FRANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     287 

Transylvanian  Alps.  Franconia  lies  south  of  the  axis  of 
this  chain,  but  its  streams  are  nearly  equally  tributary  to 
the  Danube,  the  Elbe,  and  the  Rhine.  Politically,  it  never 
had  an  independent  existence.  Divided  during  the  feudal 
ages  into  a  number  of  quarrelsome  baronies,  it  was  after- 
ward parcelled  between  the  Bishopric  of  Bamberg  and  the 
Principalities  of  Bayx-euth  and  Anspach,  but  since  1 809  has 
been  incorporated  into  the  Kingdom  of  Bavaria. 

This  region,  less  interesting  in  a  historical  point  of  view 
than  on  account  of  its  remarkable  scenery  and  its  curious 
deposits  of  fossil  remains,  is  very  rarely  visited  by  other 
than  German  tourists.  The  railroads  from  Leipzig  and 
Frankfort-on-the-Main  to  Munich  pass  within  sight  of  its 
mountains,  but  few  indeed  are  the  travellers  who  leave  these 
highways,  unless  at  Schweinfurt  for  the  baths  of  Kissingen, 
or  at  Hof  for  those  of  Eger  and  Carlsbad. 

Indeed,  in  my  own  case,  the  journey  through  the  Fran- 
conian  Switzerland  requires  a  little  explanation.  The  pri- 
mary cause  of  it  was  the  construction  of  seats  in  the 
passenger-cars  on  American  railways !  X)uring  nearly  six 
months  in  the  year,  for  three  years,  I  had  been  obliged  to 
use  those  mconveniences,  and  the  result  of  this  (for  a  tall 
man)  continual  cramping,  and  wedging,  and  jarring,  was  a 
serious  injury  to  the  knee-joints,  which  threatened  to  unfit 
me  for  duty  as  a  pedestrian.  Had  I  been  enrolled  among 
the  ranks  of  our  gallant  volunteers,  I  am  afraid  I  should 
have  fallen  by  the  wayside  before  the  end  of  the  first  day's 
march.  Some  years  ago  I  had  occasion  to  regret  that  the 
directors  of  all  railroad  companies  were  not  uniformly  seven 
feet  high,  and  I  now  repeat  it  with  emphasis.     The  Cam- 


288  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

den  and  Amboy  Railroad  is  to  me  simply  a  torture,  the 
PhiladeljDhia  and  Baltimore  the  rack,  and  from  Baltimore 
to  Washington  I  am  broken  on  the  wheel.  It  is  greatly  to 
be  regretted  that  the  fares  on  these  roads  are  so  very  low, 
and  the  business  so  insignificant,  that  the  companies  can- 
not afford  greater  space  for  passengers. 

The  prescription  was  :  Moderate  daily  exercise,  carefully 
timed  so  as  to  avoid  unusual  fatigue.  But  I  am  one  of 
those  persons  who  cannot  walk  simply  for  the  sake  of  exer- 
cise ;  I  must  have  an  object  for  locomotion.  If  I  were  to 
carry  stones,  like  De  Quincy  on  the  Edinburgh  turnpike,  I 
should  be  crippled  in  an  hour,  but  place  me  in  a  winding 
valley,  where  every  turn  discloses  an  unknown  landscape, 
and  I  shall  hold  out  for  half  a  day.  So  the  first  thing  I 
did,  after  reaching  Germany,  was  to  select  an  interesting 
field  wherein  to  commence  my  Walking-Cure.  Saxony, 
Thiiringia,  the  Black  Forest,  the  Hartz,  I  knew  already ; 
but  here,  within  a  day's  railroad  travel  of  my  summer  home, 
lay  Franconia,  with  its  caverns,  its  dolomite  rocks,  and  its 
fir-clad  mountains.  In  one  month  from  the  day  I  left  New 
York  I  found  myself  at  Forchheim,  on  the  railroad  between 
Bamberg  and  Nuremberg,  and  on  the  western  border  of 
the  Franconian  Switzerland. 

Here  I  commence  my  narrative. 

The  omnibus  for  Streitberg  was  in  waiting,  with  two 
passengers  besides  myself.  The  first  was  a  pleasant  old 
gentleman,  who  I  soon  discovered  was  a  Professor  from  the 
University  of  Erlangen — a  graduate  of  Gottingen  in  1816, 
where  he  was  fellow-student  with  George  Ticknor  and 
Edward  Everett.    Then  entered  a  miserable-looking  man, 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FKANCOXIAN  SWITZERLAND.     289 

with  ;i  face  wearing  the  strongest  expression  of  distress  and 
disgust.  He  had  scarcely  taken  his  seat  before  he  burst 
into  loud  lamentations.  "  No,  such  a  man !"  he  cried  ;  "  I 
have  never  met  such  a  dreadful  man.  I  could  not  get  rid 
of  him;  he  stuck  to  me  like  a  blue-fly.  Because  I  said  to 
one  of  the  passengers,  '  I  see  from  your  face  that  you  have 
studied,'  he  attacked  me.  '  What  do  you  think  from  iny 
face,  that  I  am  ?'  he  said.  I  didn't  care  what  he  was. 
'  I'm  not  very  well  dressed,'  said  he,  'but  if  I  had  my  best 
clothes  on  you  might  guess  twenty-four  hours  before  you 
could  make  me  out !'  Oh,  the  accursed  man !  What  did 
I  cai'e  about  him?  'Don't  go  to  Streitberg !'  he  said, 
'  stop  at  Forchheim.  Go  to  the  Three  Swans.  If  you  stay 
there  a  day,  you'll  stay  three ;  if  you  stay  three  days,  you'll 
stay  three  weeks.  But  what  do  you  take  me  for?'  'A 
journeyman  shoemaker !»  I  cried,  in  despei'ation.  '  Xo, 
you're  wrong;  I'm  a  dancing-master  !'  Holy  Saint  Peter, 
what  a  man !"  After  this  I  was  not  surprised  when  the 
narrator  informed  us  that  he  was  very  sick,  and  was  going 
to  Streitberg  to  try  the  "  whey-cure." 

We  entered  the  valley  of  the  Wiesent,  one  of  the  far-off 
tributaries  of  the  Rhine.  The  afternoon  was  intensely  hot, 
but  the  sky  was  clear  and  soft,  and  the  landscape  could  not 
have  exhibited  more  ravishing  effects  of  light  and  shade. 
Broad  and  rich  at  first,  bordered  with  low  hills,  the  valley 
gradually  became  deeper  and  narrower,  without  losing  its 
fair,  cultivated  beauty.  We  passed  around  the  foot  of  the 
Walpurgisberg,  on  the  summit  of  which  is  a  chapel,  whereto 
a  pilgrimage  in  honor  of  St.  Walpurgis  is  made  on  the  first 
of  May.     Further  up  the  valley,  on  the  opposite  side,  is  the 

13 


290  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

VexirJcapelle  (the  Chapel  of  Annoyance) ;  so  called,  I  pre- 
sume, becaiise  you  have  it  in  view  during  a  day's  walk. 
Its  situation  is  superb,  on  the  very  crest  of  a  wooded  moun- 
tain. Peasant-women,  with  gay  red  cloths  on  their  heads, 
brightened  the  fields,  but  the  abundance  of  beggars  showed 
that  we  were  in  Bavaria. 

At  the  little  town  of  Ebermannstadt  two  young  ladies 
joined  us.  They  wore  round  hats,  much  jewelry,  and 
expansive  crinolines,  which  they  carefully  gathered  up 
tinder  their  arms  before  taking  their  seats,  thereby  avoiding 
the  usual  embarrassment.  They  saluted  me  with  great 
cordiality,  apologizing  for  the  amplitude  of  dress  which 
obliged  me  to  shift  my  seat.  I  was  a  little  disappointed, 
however,  to  find  that  they  spoke  the  broadest  jt?aio^s,  which 
properly  requires  the  peasant  costume  to  make  it  attractive. 
The  distance  between  their  speech  and  their  dress  was  too 
great.  "  Gelt,  Hans,  's  geht  a  hissel  barsch  hifP''  said 
one  of  them  to  the  postillion — which  is  as  if  an  American 
girl  should  say  to  the  stage-driver,  "  Look  here,  you  Jack, 
it's  a  sort  o'  goin'  up-hill,  ain't  it  ?" 

The  valley  now  became  quite  narrow,  and  presently  I 
saw,  by  the  huge  masses  of  gray  rock  and  the  shattered 
tower  of  Neideck,  that  we  were  approaching  Streitberg. 
This  place  is  th6  portal  of  the  Franconian  Switzerland. 
Situated  at  the  last  turn  of  the  Wiesent  valley — or  rather 
at  the  corner  where  it  ceases  to  be  a  gorge  aud  becomes 
a  valley — the  village  nestles  at  the  base  of  a  group  of  huge, 
splintered,  overhanging  rocks,  among  which  still  hang  the 
ruins  of  its  feudal  castle.  Opposite,  on  the  very  summit 
of  a  similar  group,  is  the  ruin  of  Niedeck.     The  names  of 


A  "WALK  THROUGH  THE  FEANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     291 

the  two  places  (the  "Mount  of  Quarrel"  and  the  "Corner 
of  Envy")  give  us  the  clew  to  their  history.  Streitberg, 
no  doubt,  was  at  one  time  a  very  Ebal,  or  Mount  of  Curs- 
ing— nor,  to  judge  from  the  invalid  who  accompanied  us 
thither  to  try  the  whey-cure,  can  it  yet  have  entirely  lost 
its  character.  At  the  cure-house  (as  the  Germans  call  it) 
there  were  some  fifty  similar  individuals — sallow,  peevish, 
irritable,  unhappy  persons,  in  whose  faces  one  could  see 
vinegar  as  well  as  whey.  They  sat  croaking  to  each  other 
in  the  balmy  evening,  or  contemplated  with  rueful  faces 
the  lovely  view  down  the  valley. 

I  succeeded  in  procuring  a  bath  by  inscribing  my  name, 
residence,  and  the  precise  hour  of  bathing,  in  a  book  for 
the  inspection  of  the  physician.  I  trust  he  was  edified  by 
the  perusal.  Then,  returning  to  the  inn,  I  ordered  a  sup- 
per of  trout,  which  are  here  cheap  and  good.  They  are 
kept  in  tanks,  and,  if  you  choose,  you  may  pick  out  any 
fish  you  may  prefer.  A  tap  on  the  nose  is  supposed  to  kill 
them,  after  which  the  gall-bladder  is  removed,  and  they  are 
thrown  into  boiling  water.  In  Germany,  trout  are  never 
eaten  otherwise.  The  color  fades  in  the  process,  but  the 
flavor  of  the  fish  is  fully  retained.  A  slice  of  lemon,  bread, 
butter,  and  a  glass  of  Rhenish  wine,  are  considered  to  be 
necessary  harmonics. 

I  took  a  good  night's  sleep  before  commencing  my  walk- 
ing-cure. Then,  leaving  my  travelling-bag  to  follow  with  the 
diligence,  I  set  out  encumbered  only  with  an  umbrella-cane, 
a  sketch-book,  and  a  leather  pouch,  containing  guide-book, 
map,  note-book,  and  colors.  Somewhat  doubtful  as  to  the 
result,  but  courageous,  I  began  a  slow,  steady  march  up 


292  AT   HOME    AND    ABKOAD. 

the  valley.  Many  years  had  passed  since  I  had  undertaken 
a  journey  on  foot,  and  as  I  recalled  old  experiences  and  old 
feelings,  I  realized  that,  although  no  sense  of  enjoyment 
was  blunted,  the  fascinating  wonderment  of  youth,  which 
clothed  every  object  in  a  magical  atmosphere,  was  gone  for 
ever.  My  perception  of  Beauty  seemed  colder,  because  it 
was  more  intelligent,  more  discriminating.  But  Gain  and 
Loss,  in  the  scale  of  life,  alternately  kick  the  beam. 

The  dew  lay  thick  on  the  meadows,  and  the  peasants 
were  everywhere  at  woi'k  shaking  out  the  hay,  so  that  the 
air  was  sweet  with  grass-odors.  Above  me,  on  eitlier 
side,  the  immense  gray  horns  and  towers  of  rock  rose  out 
of  the  steep  fir-woods,  clearly,  yet  not  too  sharply  defined 
against  the  warm  blue  of  the  sky.  The  Wiesent,  swift  and 
beryl-green,  winding  in  many  curves  through  the  hay -fields, 
made  a  cheerful  music  in  his  bed.  In  an  hour  I  reached 
the  picturesque  village  of  Muggendorf,  near  which  is  Rosen- 
mtiller's  Cave,  celebrated  for  its  stalactitic  formations.  I 
hiive  little  fancy  for  subterranean  travels,  and  after  having 
seen  the  Mammoth  Cave  of  Kentucky  and  the  grottoes  of 
Crete,  I  felt  no  inclination  to  visit  more  than  one  of  the 
Franconian  caverns.  After  resting  half  an  hour,  and  re- 
freshing myself  with  a  glass  of  water  and  the  conversation 
of  a  company  of  ladies  who  alighted  at  the  little  tavern,  I 
started  again,  still  feeling  tolerably  binsk. 

The  valley  now  contracted  to  a  wild  gorge,  with  almost 
perpendicular  walls  of  rock,  and  a  narrow  strip  of  meadow 
in  its  bed.  In  a  distance  of  five  miles  I  passed  two  fine  old 
mills,  which  were  the  only  evidences  of  life  and  habitation. 
Suddenly,  on  turning  a  rocky  corner,  the  castle  of  Goss- 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FKAITCONIAN  SWlTZERLA2fD.     293 

weinsteiu  appeared  before  me,  as  if  hung  in  the  sky.  The 
picture  was  so  striking  that,  in  spite  of  the  intense  heat,  I 
stopped  to  sketch  it.  On  reaching  a  mill  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountain  I  found  there  was  no  bridge  over  the  stream, 
which  I  should  have  crossed  some  distance  back.  I  was 
sufficiently  tired,  howevei',  to  be  glad  of  a  good  excuse  for 
not  scaling  the  height.  Presently  I  reached  a  little  village 
in  a  nook  where  the  gorge  splits  into  three  prongs,  through 
two  of  which  wild  trout-streams  come  down  to  join  the 
Wiesent.  The  meadows  were  covered  with  pieces  of  coarse 
linen  in  the  process  of  bleaching.  Here  there  was  a  tavern 
and  a  huge  linden-tree,  and  after  my  walk  of  ten  miles  I 
considered  myself  entitled  to  shade  and  beer.  It  occufred 
to  me,  also,  that  I  might  lighten  the  journey  by  taking  the 
landlady's  son  to  carry  my  coat,  sketch-book,  etc.  This 
proved  to  be  a  good  idea. 

The  main  road  here  left  the  valley,  which  really  became 
next  to  impracticable.  We  took  a  foot-path  up  the  stream, 
through  a  wild  glen  half-filled  with  immense  fragments  that 
had  tumbled  from  the  rocky  walls  on  either  side.  The  close 
heat  was  like  that  of  an  oven,  and,  as  the  solitude  was  com- 
plete, I  gradually  loaded  my  guide  with  one  article  of  dress 
after  another,  until  my  costume  resembled  that  of  a  High- 
lander, except  that  the  kilt  was  white.  Finally,  seeing  some 
hay-makers  at  a  point  where  the  glen  made  a  sharp  turn, 
I  resumed  my  original  character ;  and  it  was  well  that  I  did 
so,  for  on  turning  the  corner  I  found  myself  in  the  village 
of  Tuchersfeld,  and  in  view  of  a  multitude  of  women  who 
were  bleaching  linen. 

I  know  of  few  surprises  in  scenery  equal  to  this.     I  was 


294  AT    HOME    AND    ABKOAD. 

looking  up  the  glen,  supposing  that  my  way  lay  straight  on, 
when  three  steps  more,  and  I  found  myself  in  a  deep  trian- 
gular basin,  out  of  which  rose  three  immense  jagged  masses 
of  rock,  like  pyramids  in  ruin,  with  houses  clinging,  in  gid- 
dy recklessness,  to  their  sides !  On  a  saddle  between  two 
of  them  stands  the  Merrensitz,  or  residence  of  the  proprie- 
tary family.  A  majestic  Hnden,  centuries  old,  grows  at  the 
base,  and  high  over  its  crown  tower  the  weather-beaten 
spires  of  rock,  with  a  blasted  pine  on  the  summit.  The 
picture  is  grotesque  in  its  character,  which  is  an  unusual 
feature  in  scenery.  One  who  comes  up  the  glen  is  so  un- 
prepared for  it  that  it  flashes  upon  him  as  if  a  curtain  had 
been  suddenly  lifted. 

Here  I  rested  in  the  shade  until  the  mid-day  heat  was 
over.  A  Jew  and  a  young  Bavarian  lieutenant  kept  me 
company,  and  the  latter  entertained  me  with  descriptions 
of  various  executions  which  he  had  seen.  We  left  at  the 
same  time,  they  for  Bayreuth  and  I  for  the  little  town  of 
Pottenstein,  at  the  head  of  the  gorge,  five  miles  further. 
By  this  time,  I  confess,  the  journey  had  become  a  toil.  I 
dragged  myself  along  rather  than  walked,  and  when  a  stout 
boy  of  twelve  begged  for  a  kreutzer^  I  bribed  him  for  twelve 
to  accompany  and  assist  me.  His  dialect  was  of  the  broad- 
est, and  I  could  sooner  have  understood  a  lecture  on  the 
Absolute  Reason  than  his  simple  peasant  gossip.  His  tongue 
was  a  very  scissors  for  clipping  off  the  ends  of  words.  The 
pronoun  "  icA"  he  changed  into  "  a,"  and  very  often  used 
the  third  person  of  the  verb  instead  of  the  first.  I  man- 
aged, however,  to  learn  that  the  landlord  in  Ttichersfeld 
was  "  fearfully  rich  :''  all  the  hay  in  the  glen  (pei'haps  ten 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FEANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     295 

tons)  belonged  to  him.  I  had  already  suspected  as  much, 
for  the  landlord  took  pains  to  tell  us  about  a  wedding  trip 
he  had  just  made  to  the  old  monastery  of  Banz,  a  day's 
journey  distant.  "  It  cost  me  as  much  as  forty  florins," 
said  he,  "  but  then  we  travelled  second-class.  To  my 
thinking  it's  not  half  so  pleasant  as  third-class,  but  then  I 
wanted  to  be  noble  for  once." 

For  an  hour  and  a  half  we  walked  through  a  deep,  wind- 
ing glen,  where  there  was  barely  a  little  room  here  and 
there  for  a  hay  or  barley  field.  On  the  right  hand  were 
taU  forests  of  fir  and  pine ;  on  the  left,  abrupt  stony 
hills,  capped  with  huge  irregular  bastions  of  Jura  limestone. 
Gradually  the  rocks  appear  on  the  right  and  push  away 
the  woods  ;  the  stream  Ls  squeezed  between  a  double  row 
of  Cyclopean  walls,  which  assume  the  wildest  and  most 
fantastic  shapes,  and  finally  threaten  to  lock  together  and 
cut  off  the  path.  These  wonderful  walls  are  three  or  four 
hundred  feet  in  height — not  only  perpendicular,  but  actu- 
ally overhanging  in  many  places. 

As  I  was  shuffling  along,  quite  exhausted,  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  two  naked  youngsters  in  a  shaded  eddy  of  the 
stream.  They  plunged  about  with  so  much  enjoyment 
that  I  was  strongly  tempted  to  join  them :  so  I  stepped 
down  to  the  bank,  and  called  out,  "  Is  the  water  cold  ?'' 
Whoop !  away  they  w^ent,  out  of  the  water  and  under  a 
thick  bush,  leaving  only  four  legs  visible.  Presently  these 
also  disappeared,  and  had  it  not  been  for  two  tow  shirts, 
more  brown  than  white,  lying  on  the  grass,  I  might  have 
supposed  that  I  had  surprised  a  pair  of  Nixies. 

The  approach  to  Pottenstein  resembles  that  to  Ttlchers- 


296  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

feld,  but  it  is  less  sudden  and  surprising.  It  is  wonderfully 
picturesque — the  houses  are  so  jammed  in,  here  and  there, 
among  the  huge  shapeless  limestone  monoliths,  and  the 
bits  of  meadow  and  garden  have  such  a  greenness  and 
brightness  contrasted  with  the  chaos  which  incloses  them. 
I  found  my  way  to  the  post-inn,  and  straightway  dropped 
into  one  of  the  awkward  carved  wooden  chairs  (the  pattern 
of  five  centuries  ago)  in  the  guests'  room,  with  a  feeling 
of  infinite  gratitude.  The  landlord  brought  me  a  mug  of 
beer,  with  black  bread  and  a  handful  of  salt  on  the  plate. 
I  remembered  the  types  of  hospitality  in  the  Orient,  and 
partook  of  the  hallowed  symbols.  Then  came  consecutive 
ablutions  of  cold  Avater  and  brandy ;  after  which  I  felt 
suflSciently  refreshed  to  order  trout  for  supper.  But  what- 
ever of  interest  the  little  town  may  have  contained,  nothing 
could  tempt  me  to  walk  another  step  that  day. 

In  the  morning  I  engaged  a  man  as  guide  and  sack- 
bearer,  and  set  out  by  six  o'clock  for  Rabenstein  (the 
Raven-rock)  and  its  famous  cavern.  We  first  climbed  out 
of  the  chasm  of  Pottenstein,  which  was  filled  with  a  hot, 
silvery  mist,  and  struck  northward  over  high,  rolling  land, 
from  which  we  could  now  and  then  look  down  into  the 
gorges  of  the  Ptittlach  and  Eschbach.  There  was  not  a 
breath  of  air  stirring,  and  even  at  that  early  hour  the  heat 
Avas  intense.  I  would  have  stopped  occasionally  to  rest, 
but  the  guide  pushed  ahead,  saying :  "  We  must  get  on 
before  the  day  is  liot."  The  country  was  bald  and  mono- 
tonous, but  the  prospect  of  reaching  Rabenstein  in  two 
hours  enabled  me  to  hold  out.  Finally  the  little  foot-path 
we  liad  been  following  turned  into  a  wood,  whence,  after  a 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FRANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     297 

hundred  paces,  it  suddenly  emerged  upon  the  brink  of  a 
deep,  rocky  basin,  resembling  the  crater  of  a  volcano.  It 
was  about  four  hundred  feet  deep,  with  a  narrow  split  at 
either  end,  through  which  the  Eschbach  stream  entered 
and  departed.  The  walls  were  composed  of  enormous 
overhanging  masses  of  rock,  which  rested  on  natural  arches 
or  regular  jambs,  like  those  of  Egyptian  gateways,  while 
the  bed  was  of  the  greenest  turf,  with  a  slip  of  the  blue 
sky  mirrored  in  the  centre,  as  if  one  were  looking  upon  a 
lower  heaven  through  a  crack  in  the  earth.  Opposite,  on 
the  very  outer  edge  of  the  rock,  sat  the  castle  of  Raben- 
stein,  and  the  houses  of  the  village  behind  it  seemed  to  be 
crowding  on  toward  the  brink,  as  if  anxious  which  should 
be  first  to  look  down. 

Into  this  basin  led  the  path — a  toilsome  descent,  but  at 
the  bottom  we  found  a  mill  which  was  also  a  tavern,  and 
bathed  our  tongues  in  some  cool  but  very  bitter  and  dis- 
agreeable beer.  "  Sophia's  Cave,"  the  finest  grotto  in  the 
Franconian  Switzerland,  is  a  little  further  up  the  gorge ; 
and  the  haymakers  near  the  mill,  on  seeing  me,  shouted  up 
to  the  cave-keeper  in  the  village  over  their  heads  to  get  his 
torches  ready.  The  rocks  on  either  side  exhibit  the  most 
wild  and  wonderful  forms.  In  one  place  a  fragment,  shaped 
very  much  like  a  doll,  but  from  eighty  to  a  hundred  feet 
in  height,  has  slipped  down  from  above,  and  fallen  out, 
resting  only  its  head  against  the  perpendicular  wall.  On 
approaching  the  cave,  the  rocky  wall  on  Avhich  the  castle 
of  Rabenstein  stands  projects  far  over  its  base,  and  a  little 
white  chapel  sits  on  the  summit.  The  entrance  is  a  very 
broad,  low  arch,  resting  on  natural  pillars. 

13* 


298  AT    HOME    AND    ABUOAD. 

You  first  penetrate  for  a  hundred  feet  or  more  by  a 
spacious  vaulted  avenue :  then  the  rock  contracts,  and  a 
narrow  passage,  closed  by  double  doors,  leads  to  the  sub- 
terranean halls.  Here  you  find  yourself  near  the  top  of  an 
immense  chamber,  hung  with  stalactites  and  tinkling  with 
the  sound  of  water  dropping  from  their  points.  A  wooden 
staircase,  protected  by  an  iron  railing,  leads  around  the 
sides  to  the  bottom,  giving  views  of  some  curious  forma- 
tions— waterfalls,  statues,  a  papal  tiara,  the  intestines  of 
cattle — and  the  blunt  pillars  of  the  stalagmites,  growing 
up  by  hundreds  from  every  corner  or  shelf  of  rock. 

The  most  remarkable  feature  of  the  cave,  however — as 
of  all  the  Franconian  grottoes — is  the  abundance  of  fossil 
remains  in  every  part  of  it.  The  attention  of  geologists 
was  first  directed  to  these  extraordinary  deposits  by  the 
naturalist  Rosenmtiller,  who  explored  and  described  them  ; 
but  they  were  afterward  better  known  through  the  writ- 
ings of  Cuvier  and  Humboldt.  Here,  imbedded  in  the 
incrusted  stone,  lie  the  skulls  of  bears  and  hyenas,  the 
antlers  of  deer,  elk,  and  antelopes,  and  the  jaw-bones  of 
mammoths.  You  find  them  in  the  farthest  recesses  of  the 
cave,  and  the  rock  seems  to  be  actually  a  conglomerate  of 
them.  Yet  no  entire  skeleton  of  any  animal,  I  was  in- 
formed, has  been  found.  Under  the  visible  layers  are  other 
deeper  layers  of  the  same  remains.  How  were  all  these 
beasts  assembled  here  ?  What  overwhelming  fear  or  neces- 
sity drove  together  the  lion  and  the  stag,  the  antelope  and 
the  hyena?  and  what  convulsion,  hundreds  of  centuries  ago, 
buried  them  so  deep  ?  There  is  some  grand  mystery  of  Crea- 
tion hidden  in  this  sparry  sepulchre  of  pre-adamite  beasts. 


A  WALK  THBOUGH  THE  FBANCONIAN  SWITZEKLAND.     299 

We  passed  on  into  the  second  and  third  chambers, 
where  the  stalactites  assume  other  and  more  unusual  forms, 
such  as  curtains,  chandeliers,  falling  fringes  of  lily-leaves, 
and  embroidered  drapery,  all  of  which  are  thin,  transparent, 
snowy-white,  and  give  forth  a  clear,  bell-like  tone  when 
struck.  The  cave  is  curious  and  beautiful  rather  than 
grand.  The  guide  informed  me  that  I  had  p^etrated 
two  thousand  feet  from  the  entrance,  but  this  I  could  not 
believe.  Eight  hundred  feet  would  Jje  nearer  the  mark.  On 
returning,  the  first  effect  of  daylight  on  the  outer  arches 
of  the  cavern  transmuted  them  into  golden  glass,  and  the 
wild  landscape  of  the  gorge  was  covered  w'ith  a  layer  of 
crystal  fire  so  dazzling  that  I  could  scarcely  look  upon  it. 

By  this  time  it  was  ten  o'clock,  and  the  heat  increasing 
every  moment :  it  was  90°  in  the  shade.  An  houi"'s  walk 
over  a  bare,  roasting  upland  brought  me  to  the  Wiesent 
valley  and  the  town  of  Waischenfeld,  which  I  reached  in 
a  state  of  complete  exhaustion.  Here,  however,  there  was 
an  omnibus  to  Bayreuth.  My  guide  and  baggage-bearer 
w^as  an  old  fellow  of  sixty,  who  had  waited  upon  me  the 
evening  before  in  Pottenstein,  and  besides  had  fallen  in  the 
street  and  broken  his  pipe  while  going  to  the  baker's  for 
my  breakfast :  so  I  gave  him  a  florin  and  a  half  (60  cents). 
But  I  was  hardly  prepared  for  the  outburst  which  followed : 
"  Thank  you,  and  Heaven  reward  you,  and  God  return  it  to 
you,  and  Our  Dear  Lady  take  care  of  you !  Oh,  but  I  will 
pray  ever  so  many  paternosters  for  you,  until  you  reach 
home  again.  Oh,  that  you  may  get  back  safely !  Oh,  that 
you  may  have  long  life  !  Oh,  that  you  may  be  rich  !  Oh, 
that  you  may  keep  your  health  !     Oh,  that  I  might  go  on 


300  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

with  you,  and  never  stop  !  But  you're  a  noble  lordship ! 
It  isn't  me  that  likes  vulgar  people  :  I  Avon't  have  nothing 
to  do  with  'em :  it's  the  fine,  splendid  gentleman  like  your- 
self that  it  does  me  good  to  be  with  !"  With  that  he  took 
my  hand,  and,  bending  over,  kissed  me  just  under  the  right 
eye  before  I  knew  what  he  was  after.  He  then  left  ;  and 
when  I  came  to  pay  my  bill  I  found  that  he  had  ordered 
diinier  and  beer  at  my  expense  ! 

I  waited  at  Waischenield  until  late  in  the  afternoon,  and 
then  took  the  post  for  Bayreuth.  The  upper  valley  of  the 
Wiesent  exhibits  some  remarkable  rock-forms ;  but  they 
become  less  and  less  frequent,  the  valley  widens,  and  finally, 
at  the  village  of  Blankenstein,  the  characteristics  of  the 
Franconian  Switzerland,  in  this  direction,  disappear.  The 
soil,  however,  is  much  richer,  and  the  crops  were  wonder- 
fully luxuriant.  We  passed  a  solitary  chapel  by  the  road- 
side, renowned  as  a  place  of  pilgrimage.  "  The  people  call 
it  die  Kdhel^''  said  my  fellow-passenger,  a  Bayreuther. 
"If  you  were  to  say  Kapelle  [chapel],  they  wouldn't  know 
what  you  meant."  The  votive  offerings  placed  there  are 
immediately  stolen  ;  the  altar-oraaraents  are  stolen ;  even 
the  bell  is  stolen  from  the  tower. 

At  last  the  Fichtelgebirge  (Fir-Mountains) — the  central 
chain  of  Franconia — came  in  sight,  and  the  road  began  to 
descend  toward  the  valley  of  Bayreuth.  My  fellow-pas- 
senger proposed  that  wo  should  alight  at  the  commencement 
of  a  park  called  the  Phantasie,  belonging  to  Duke  Alexan- 
der of  Wtirtemberg,  and  he  would  conduct  me  through  to 
the  other  end,  where  the  omnibus  would  wait  for  us.  We 
entered  a  charming  park,  every  foot  of  which  betrayed  the 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FRANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     301 

most  exquisite  taste  and  the  most  tender  care.  Nowhere 
could  be  found  smoother  gravel,  gi-eener  turf,  brighter  flow- 
ers, or  a  more  artistic  disposition  of  trees,  fountains,  statues, 
and  flower-beds.  Presently  Ave  reached  a  stately  Italian 
palace  of  yellow  stone,  with  a  level,  blossomy  terrace  in 
front,  overhanging  a  deep  valley,  which  seemed  to  have  been 
brought  bodily  from  Swtzerland.  In  the  bottom  was  a 
lake,  bordered  by  the  greenest  meadows ;  the  opposite  hill 
was  wooded  with  dark  firs,  and  every  house  which  could 
be  seen  was  Swiss  in  its  form.  Two  men  were  on  the  ter- 
race, looking  over  the  heavy  stone  balustrade — one  of  them 
a  very  stout,  strong  figure,  with  a  massive  gray  beard. 
"Ah,"  said  my  companion,  "there  is  the  Duke  himself!" 
His  Highness,  seeing  us,  returned  our  salutes  very  politely, 
and  then  slid  behind  se  bush.  "  He  always  does  that,"  said 
the  Bayreuther,  "  when  strangers  come:  he  goes  away  lest 
they  should  be  embarrassed,  and  not  see  as  much  as  they 
wish."  This  is  really  the  extreme  of  politeness.  The  Duke's 
wife  was  the  Princess  Marie  d'Orleans,  that  gifted  daughter 
of  Louis  Philippe,  whose  statue  of  Joan  of  Arc  is  in  the 
Versailles  Gallery.  She  died,  however,  not  in  consequence 
of  excessive  devotion  to  her  art,  as  is  often  stated,  but  from 
a  cold  contracted  after  her  first  confinement.  Duke  Alex- 
ander has  never  married  again. 

The  Phantasie  struck  me  as  being  one  of  the  most  exqui- 
site specimens  of  landscape  gardening  in  Germany.  It  is 
an  illustration  of  what  may  be  accomplished  by  simjjly 
assisting  nature — by  following  her  suggestions  rather  than 
forcing  her  to  assume  a  new  character. 

As  we  approached  Bayreuth  my  friend  said  :  "  Now  I 


302  AT   HOALE   AND    ABROAD. 

will  try  and  show  you  the  grave  of  Jean  Paul  (Richter)." 
But  the  foliage  in  the  cemetery  was  too  thick,  and  I  only 
thought  I  saw  the  top  of  a  black  marble  tombstone.  "  I 
remember  him  very  well,"  he  continued.  "  When  I  was  a 
boy  I  often  saw  him  on  his  way  to  Frau  Rollwenzel's.  He 
wore  a  wide  coat,  and  always  had  a  bottle  of  wine  in  his 
pocket.  One  hand  he  held  behind  him,  and  carried  a  stick 
in  the  other.  Sometimes  he  would  stop  and  take  a  drink 
of  wine.  I  remember  his  funeral,  which  took  place  by 
torch-light.  He  was  a  most  beautiful  corpse  !  His  widow 
gave  me  one  of  his  vests,  a  white  one,  with  embroidery 
upon  it,  and  I  was  fool  enough  to  let  it  go  out  of  my  hands ; 
I  shall  never  forgive  myself  for  that.  But  then,  nobody  in 
JBayreuth  thought  he  was  a  great  man!'''  And  this  was 
said  of  Jean  Paul,  the  greatest  German  humorist !  There 
is  a  melancholy  moral  in  the  remark. 

Bayreuth  is  a  stately  town  for  its  size  (the  population  is 
some  18,000) ;  the  streets  are  broad,  the  houses  large  and 
massive  ;  but  over  all  there  is  an  air  of  dei)arted  grandeur 
like  Ferrara,  Ravenna,  and  the  other  deserted  Italian  capi- 
tals. In  the  former  century  it  had  an  ostentatious  court — 
its  Margraves,  no  doubt,  considered  themselves  Gh'ands 
Monarques  in  miniature,  and  surrounded  themselves  with 
pompous  ceremonial — ^but  all  this  is  over.  Now  and  then 
a  curious  stranger  arrives,  and  he  passes  with  scarce  a 
glance  the  palace  of  the  old  rulers  on  his  way  to  the  statue 
of  the  grand  plebeian,  Jean  Paul  Friedrich  Richter.  At 
least  the  latter  was  the  only  object  in  the  city  which  I  cared 
to  sec.  It  is  of  bronze,  colossal,  and  from  Schwanthaler's 
model.     The  poet  is  represented  as  leaning  against  a  tree, 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FEANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     303 

with  a  pencil  in  one  hand  and  a  note-book  in  the  other, 
while  his  head  is  slightly  lifted,  as  if  with  the  inspiration  of 
a  new  idea.     But  it  is  by  no  means  a  great  work. 

In  spite  of  the  heat  (92°  in  the  shade)  I  walked  out  to 
the  Hermitage,  a  summer  resort  of  the  Margraves,  about 
four  miles  from  the  city.  The  road  thither  is  an  unbroken 
avenue  of  magnificent  lindens,  from  which,  as  the  ground 
gradually  rises,  you  have  wide  views  of  the  surrounding 
country.  On  the  summit  of  the  ridge  stands  the  famous 
coffee-house,  formerly  kept  by  Frau  Rollwenzel.  On  a 
tablet  beside  the  door  are  the  words :  "  Hier  dichtete  Jean 
Pauly  (Here  Jean  Paul  wrote  his  works.)  He  had  a 
garret  room  in  the  little  low  house,  and  it  was  his  habit  for 
many  years  to  walk  out  from  Bayreuth  in  the  morning,  and 
write  there  all  day,  returning  in  the  evening.  I  climbed 
the  steep,  dark  stair-case,  and  entered  his  room,  a  narrow 
den,  with  two  windows  looking  toward  the  Fichtelgebirge. 
Every  thing  is  kept  in  precisely  the  same  condition  as  dur- 
ing his  life.  There  is  the  same  old  calico  sofa,  the  same 
deal  table  and  rude  book-shelf  which  he  used.  In  the  table- 
drawer  is  one  of  his  manuscript  works:  "  Remarks  About 
Us  Fools.''  The  custodian  informed  me  that  he  had  been 
offered  300  florins  ($120)  for  it  by  an  Englishman.  Over 
the  sofa  hangs  a  portrait  of  Jean  Paul,  under  which  is  a 
smaller  one  of  Frau  Rollwenzel. 

In  a  quarter  of  an  hour  more  I  reached  the  Hermitage, 
which  I  found  entirely  deserted.  Laborers  and  loafers  alike 
had  fled  from  the  unusual  heat.  In  the  deep  avenues  of  the 
park,  where  the  sunshine,  passing  through  triple  layers  of 
beech-leaves,  took  the  hue  of  dark-green  glass,  I  found  a 


804  Ar  HOME  a:n^d  abroad. 

grateful  coolness ;  bxit  the  fountains,  tlie  sand-stone  dra- 
gons, and  rococo  flower-beds  in  front  of  a  semicircular  tem- 
ple of  rough  mosaic,  dedicated  to  the  Sun,  basked  in  an  in- 
tense Persian  heat.  The  god  really  had  visited  his  altar. 
Here  there  are  very  remarkable  jeux  dPeau  y  but  I  confess, 
with  humiliation,  that  I  had  not  sufficient  energy  remaining 
to  find  the  person  who  had  them  in  charge,  and  thus  did 
not  see  their  performance.  The  water,  I  was  told,  comes 
forth  from  all  sorts  of  unexpected  places  ;  foi*ms  suns, 
moons,  and  stars  in  the  air ;  spouts  from  the  trees ;  spirts 
out  of  the  bushes ;  and  so  envelops  the  beholder  in  a  foun- 
tain-chaos that  he  is  lucky  if  he  escapes  without  a  drench- 
ing. There  is  one  scat  in  particular  which  the  stranger  is 
directed  to  take,  in  order  to  obtain  the  best  view.  Woe 
to  him  if  he  obey !  All  the  trees  and  rocks  around  fling 
their  streams  upon  him. 

The  Hermitage  is  a  good  specimen  of  what  is  called  in 
Germany  the  Zojt?/*  (Queue)  style — the  quintessence  of  for- 
mality. Its  position,  on  the  opposite  side  of,  and  equidis- 
tant from,  Bayreuth,  challenges  a  comparison  with  the 
Phantasie,  and  the  difference  is  just  this  :  in  the  Phantasie 
one  sees  that  Nature  is  beloved — in  the  Hermitage,  that  she 
is  patronized  with  lofty  consideration. 

Returning  to  ]5ayreuth,  I  took  the  railroad  to  a  little 
town  called  Markt-Schorgast,  in  order  to  enter  the  Fichtel- 
gebirge  from  the  moat  approved  point.  Here  I  tried  to 
procure  a  man  to  carry  ray  sack  to  Berneck,  some  three 
miles  distant,  but  only  succeeded  in  obtaining  a  very  small 
boy.  "  Really,"  said  I,  when  the  mite  made  his  appear- 
ance, "  he  can  never  carry  it."     "  Let  me  see,"  said  the 


A  WALK  THROUftH  THE  FKAXnOXIAN  SW1TZE1?T;A:ND.     305 

station-master,  lifting  the  sack;  "Ja  wohl,  that's  nothing 
for  him.  He  aould  run  with  it !"  True  enough,  the  boy 
put  it  into  a  basket,  shouldered  it,  and  trotted  off  as  brisk 
as  a  grasshopper.  The  load  was  larger  than  himself,  and  I 
walked  after  him  with  a  sense  of  shame.  There  was  I,  a 
broad-shouldered  giant  in  comparison, puffing,  and  sweating, 
and  groaning,  finding  even  my  umbrella  troublesome,  and 
the  poor  little  pigmy  at  my  side  keeping  up  a  lively  quick- 
step with  his  bare  feet  on  the  hot  road. 

We  crossed  a  burning  hill  into  abroad,  shallow  valley, 
with  a  village  called  Wasserknoten  (the  water-knots).  Be- 
yond this  valley  contracted  into  a  glen,  shaded  with  dark 
fir- woods,  which  overhung  slopes  of  velvet  rather  than 
grass,  they  wore  so  even  and  lustrous  a  green.  After  a 
while  the  ruins  of  Hohen-berneck  (High  Bear's  Corner), 
consisting  of  one  square  tower,  eighty  feet  high,  appeared 
on  the  crest  of  the  hill.  The  town  is  squeezed  into  the  bot- 
tom of  the  glen,  which  is  only  wide  enough  for  a  single 
street,  more  than  a  mile  long.  I  was  so  thoroughly  fatigued 
when  I  reached  the  post-inn  at  the  farther  end  of  the  place 
that  I  gave  up  all  thoughts  of  going  further. 

The  landlord  made  much  of  me  on  learning  that  I  was  an 
American.  He  not  only  regaled  me  with  beer,  but  took  me 
to  see  another  Bei'necker,  who  had  been  in  England,  India, 
and  China.  Several  "  ci«re-guests"  joined  the  company,  and 
I  was  obliged  to  give  them  a  history  of  the  Southern  Rebel- 
lion, which  was  no  easy  matter,  as  so  much  incidental  expla^ 
nation  was  necessary.  In  Berneck  there  is  a  frequented 
whey-cure.  In  fact,  there  are  few  towns  in  Grermany  with- 
out a  "cure"   of  some  kind.    Whey-cures,  water-cures, 


306  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

grape-cures,  hunger-cures,  cider-cures,  pine-needle-cures, 
salt-cures,  and  herb-cures  flourish  in  active  rivalry.  In 
addition  to  all  these  the  beer-cure  is  universally  employed. 

I  had  engaged  a  man  to  be  ready  in  the  morning  to 
accompany  me  to  Bischofsgriln,  ten  miles  further  ;  but  the 
man  turned  out  to  be  an  old  woman.  However,  it  made 
little  difference,  as  she  walked  quite  as  fast  with  her  load  as 
I  was  willing  to  walk  without  one.  The  same  temperature 
continued ;  there  was  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky,  and  a  thin, 
silvery  shimmer  of  heat  in  the  air  and  over  the  landscape. 
We  followed  the  course  of  the  young  Main,  at  first  through 
a  wide,  charming  valley,  whose  meadows  of  grass  and  flow- 
ers fairly  blazed  in  the  sunshine,  while  on  either  hand  tow- 
ered the  dark  blue-green  forests  of  fir.  Shepherds  with 
their  flocks  were  on  the  slopes,  and  the  little  goose-girls 
drove  their  feathered  hei'ds  along  the  road.  One  of  them 
drew  a  wagon  in  which  a  goose  and  a  young  child  were 
sitting  cozily  together.  The  cuckoo  sang  in  all  the  woods, 
and  no  feature  of  life  failed  which  the  landscape  suggested, 
unless  it  were  the  Tyrolean  yodel.  After  an  hour's  hard 
walking  the  valley  became  a  steep  gorge,  up  which  the  road 
wound  through  continuous  forests. 

The  scenery  was  now  thoroughly  Swiss  in  its  character, 
and  charmed  me  almost  to  forgetfulness  of  my  weak  and 
bruised  knees.  Still,  I  was  heartily  rejoiced  when  we 
reached  Bischofsgriln  (Bishop's-green),  a  village  at  the  base 
of  the  Ochsenkopf,  one  of  the  highest  summits  of  the  Fich- 
telgebirge.  Here  a  rampant  golden-lion  hung  ont,  the  wel- 
come sign  of  food  and  rest.  Before  it  stood  a  carriage 
which  had  brought  a  gentleman  and  three  ladies — very 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FRANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     307 

genial  and  friendly  persons,  although  they  spoke  a  most 
decided  patois.  They  had  just  ordered  dinner,  and  the 
huge  stove  at  one  end  of  the  guests'  room  sent  out  a  terri- 
ble heat.  The  landlord  was  a  slow,  peaceful  old  fellow, 
with  that  meek  air  which  comes  from  conjugal  subjugation. 
But  his  wife  was  a  mixture  of  thunder,  lightning,  and  hail. 
The  first  thing  she  did  was  to  snatch  a  pair  of  red  worsted 
slippers  from  a  shelf;  then  she  rubbed  her  bare  feet  against 
the  edge  of  a  chair  to  scrape  off  the  sand,  and,  sitting  down, 
pulled  up  her  dress  so  as  to  show  the  greater  part  of  a  pair 
of  very  solid  legs,  and  put  on  the  slippers.  "There  !"  said 
she,  stamping  until  the  tables  rattled,  "now  comes  my 
work.  It's  me  that  has  it  to  do.  Oh  yes !  so  many  at  once, 
and  nothing  in  the  house.  Man  !  and  thou  standest  there, 
stock-still.  Ach !  here,  thou  Barbel !  See  there !  [^Bang 
goes  the  kitchen  door.]  It's  a  cursed  life!  [JBang  the 
other  door.]  Ach!  Hai!  Ho,  there!"  she  shouted  from 
the  street. 

Just  then  came  a  hay- wagon  from  Berneck,  with  thirteen 
additional  guests.  The  thunders  again  broke  heavily,  and 
for  half  an  hour  rolled  back  and  forth,  from  kitchen  to  sta- 
ble, and  from  stable  to  kitchen,  without  intermission.  The 
old  peasants,  with  their  heQV-seidls  before  them,  winked  at 
each  other  and  laughed.  I  was  getting  hungry,  but  scarcely 
dared  to  ask  for  dinner.  Finally,  however,  I  appealed  to 
the  meek  landlord.  "  Be  so  good  as  to  wait  a  little,"  he 
whispered  ;  "  it  will  come  after  a  while."  Presently  his  son 
came  in  with  a  newspaper,  saying,  "Mammy,  there's  t' 
Ziting  (Zeitung)."  "  Get  out  o'  my  way  !"  she  yelled. 
'■'' Ja^  jo^  I  should  read  t'  paper,  shouldn't  I ?     Ha!  Uo, 


308  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

there !  Man !  Bai-bel !"  and  the  storm  broke  out  afresh. 
I  Avish  it  were  possible  to  translate  the  coarse,  grotesque 
dialect  of  this  region — which  is  to  pure  German  what  Irish 
is  to  English,  and  with  as  characteristic  a  flavor — but  I 
know  not  how  it  could  be  done. 

Not  quite  so  difiicult  would  be  the  translation  of  an  aris- 
tocratic poem,  written  in  the  Fremdenbuch^tvfO  days  before, 
by  a  sentimental  baron.  It  might  very  well  compare  with 
Pope's  "Lines  by  a  Person  of  Quality."  But  no  ;  we  have 
an  ample  supply  of  such  stuff  in  our  own  language,  and  I 
will  spare  my  readers.  Bischofsgrtin  is  noted  for  its  manu- 
facture of  bottles  and  beads  for  rosaries.  There  is  a  glass 
furnace  here  which  has  been  in  steady  operation  for  eight 
hundred  years.  I  doubt  whether  anything  about  it  has 
changed  very  much  in  that  time.  I  peeped  into  it,  and  saw 
the  men  making  bottles  of  a  coarse  texture  and  pale  green- 
ish color,  but  the  mouths  of  the  furnaces,  disclosing  pits  of 
white  heat,  speedily  drove  me  away.  Although  the  village 
is  at  least  eighteen  hundred  feet  above  the  sea,  there  was 
no  perceptible  diminution  of  the  heat. 

The  men  were  all  in  the  liay-fields,  and  I  was  obliged  to 
take  a  madel  (maiden),  as  the  landlord  called  her — a  woman 
of  fifty,  with  grown-up  children.  As  the  last  thunders  of 
the  landlady  of  the  Lion  died  behind  us,  the  "  maiden"  said, 
"  Ach !  my  daughter  can't  stand  it  much  longer.  She's  been 
there,  in  service,  these  five  years ;  and  it's  worse  and  worse. 
The  landlady's  a  good  woman  when  she  don't  drink,  but 
drink  she  does,  and  pretty  much  all  the  time.  She's  from 
Schonbrunn :  she  was  a  mill-dmigJUer^  and  her  husband  a 
tavern-son,   from   the   same  place.     It  isn't  good  when  a 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FRANCONIAN  SWlTZKIiLAND.     309 

woman  drinks  schnapps,  except  at  weddings  and  funerals ; 
and  as  for  wine,  we  poor  people  can't  think  o'  that !" 

It  was  near  three  o'clock,  and  we  had  twelve  miles 
through  the  mountains  to  Wunsiedel.  Our  road  led  through 
a  valley  between  the  Schneeberg  and  the  Ochsenkopf,  both 
of  which  mountains  were  in  full  view,  crowned  with  dark 
firs  to  their  very  summits.  I  confess  I  was  disappointed  in 
the  scenery.  The  valley  is  so  elevated  that  the  mountains 
rise  scarcely  twelve  hundred  feet  above  it ;  the  slopes  are 
gradual,  and  not  remarkable  for  grace  ;  and  the  bold  rock- 
formations  are  wanting.  Coming  up  the  Main-glen  from 
Bemeck,  the  lack  of  these  features  was  atoned  for  by  the 
wonderful  beauty  of  the  turf.  Every  landscape  seemed  to 
be  new-carpeted,  and  with  such  care  that  the  turf  was 
turned  under  and  tacked  down  along  the  edges  of  the 
brooks,  leaving  no  bare  corner  anywhere.  If  the  sunshine 
had  been  actually  woven  into  its  texture  it  could  not  have 
been  brighter.  The  fir-woods  had  a  bluish-green  hue,  pur- 
ple in  the  shadows.  But  on  the  upper  meadows  over  which 
I  now  passed  the  grass  was  in  blossom,  whence  they  took 
a  brownish  tinge,  and  there  were  many  cleared  spots  which 
still  looked  ragged  and  naked. 

We  soon  entered  the  forest  at  the  foot  of  the  Ochsenkopf, 
and  walked  for  nearly  an  hour  under  the  immense  ti'ees. 
The  ground  was  carpeted  with  short  whortleberry -bushes, 
growing  so  thickly  that  no  other  plant  was  to  be  seen. 
Beyond  this  wood  lay  a  rough,  mossy  valley,  which  is  one 
of  the  water-sheds  between  the  Black  Sea  and  the  German 
Ocean.  The  fountains  of  the  Main  and  the  Nab  are  within 
Minie  rifle-shot  of  each  other.     Here  the  path  turned  to  the 


310  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

left,  leading  directly  up  the  side  of  the  mountain.  In  the 
intense  heat,  and  with  my  shaky  joints,  the  ascent  was  a 
terrible  toil.  Up,  and  up  we  went,  and  still  up,  until  an 
open  patch  of  emerald  pasture,  with  a  chalet  in  the  centre, 
showed  that  the  summit  was  reached.  A  spring  of  icy  crys- 
tal bubbled  up  in  the  grass,  and  I  was  kneeling  to  drink, 
•when  a  smiling  Jiausfrau  came  out  with  a  glass  goblet.  I 
returned  it,  with  a  piece  of  money,  after  drinking.  "  What 
is  that  ?"  said  she.  "  No,  no ;  water  must  not  be  paid  for!" 
and  handed  it  back.  "Well,"  said  I,  giving  it  to  her  flaxen- 
headed  boy,  "  it  is  not  meant  as  pay^  but  as  a  present  for 
this  youngster."  "God  protect  you  on  your  journey !"  was 
her  hearty  farewell. 

The  ridge,  I  should  guess,  was  about  twenty-eight  hun- 
dred feet  above  the  sea-level.  The  descent,  I  found,  was  a 
very  serious  matter.  I  was  obliged  to  limp  down  slowly, 
with  a  crippled  step,  which  in  itself  was  no  slight  fatigue. 
When  the  feet  have  not  free  play  it  seems  to  tire  some 
unused  internal  muscle — or,  to  judge  by  my  own  sensations, 
the  very  marrow  of  the  bones.  We  had  a  tough  foot-path 
through  a  dense  forest  for  half  an  hour,  and  then  emerged 
upon  a  slanting  meadow,  whence  there  was  a  lovely  view 
of  the  country  to  the  east  of  the  Fichtelgebirge,  with  Wun- 
eiedel  away  in  the  distance,  a  bright  island-spot  in  the  sea 
of  dark-green  firs.  Down  on  the  right  was  a  broad,  rich 
valley,  in  which  ponds  of  water  shone  clear  and  blue ;  vil- 
lages dotted  the  cultivated  slopes,  and  tlie  wooded  heights 
of  the  Luiseuburg  and  the  Kosseine  rose  beyond.  Here 
I  began  to  find  again  the  scenery  of  Richter's  works,  which 
had  struck  me  so  forcibly  in  the  vicinity  of  Bayreuth. 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FEANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     3  ]  1 

By  the  time  we  had  reached  the  bottom  of  the  moimtain 
and  left  the  forest  behind  us,  I  had  almost  touched  the 
limits  of  my  endurance.  But  there  was  still  a  good  three 
miles  before  us.  The  "  maiden,"  with  twenty  pounds  on 
her  back,  marched  along  bravely  ;  I  followed,  a  disabled 
veteran,  halting  every  now  and  then  to  rest  and  recruit. 
All  things  must  have  an  end,  and  it  is  not  every  day's  joui-- 
ney  that  winds  up  with  a  comfortable  inn.  I  am  not  sure 
but  that  the  luxury  of  the  consecutive  bath,  beef-steak, 
and  bed,  which  I  enjoyed,  compensated  for  all  the  pain 
endured. 

A  shower  the  next  morning  freshened  the  air,  diminished 
the  heat,  and  put  some  little  elasticity  mto  my  bruised  muscles. 
It  was  a  gala  day  for  Wunsiedel.  The  Turners  of  the  place, 
who  had  formed  themselves  into  a  fire-company,  performed 
in  the  market-square,  with  engines,  ladders,  hose,  etc., 
complete.  Early  in  the  morning  the  Turners  of  Hof  and 
their  female  friends  arrived  in  six  great  hay-wagons,  covered 
with  arches  of  birch  boughs  and  decorated  with  the  Bava 
rian  colors.  There  was  a  sham  fire :  roofs  were  scaled,  lad- 
ders run  up  to  the  windows,  the  engines  played,  the  band 
performed,  and  the  people  shouted.  The  little  city  was 
unusually  lively ;  the  inns  were  overflowing,  and  squads 
of  visitors,  with  green  boughs  in  their  hats,  filled  the 
streets. 

After  dinner  I  undertook  an  excursion  to  the  Luisenburg, 
notwithstanding  I  felt  so  decrepit  at  starting  that  I  would 
have  given  a  considerable  sum  to  anybody  who  would  have 
insured  my  coming  back  upon  my  own  legs.  A  handsome 
linden  avenue  led  up  the  long  hill  to  the  southward  of  Wun- 


312  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

siedel,  fi-om  the  crest  of  whicli  avb  saw  Alexande;^sbad,  at 
the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  seeming  to  lean  upon  the 
lo^?er  edge  of  its  fir-forests.  By  a  foot-path  through  fields 
which  were  beds  of  blossoms — hare-bell,  butter-cup,  phlox, 
clover,  daisy,  and  corn-flower  intermixed — we  reached  the 
stately  watei"-cure  establishment  in  three-quarters  of  an 
hour.  I  first  visited  the  mineral  spring,  which,  the  guide 
informed  me,  vvas  strongly  tinctured  with  saltpetre.  I  was 
therefore  surprised  to  hear  two  youths,  who  were  drinking 
when  we  came  u^),  exclaim,  "  Exquisite !"  "  delicious  !"  But 
when  I  drank,  I  said  the  same  thing.  The  taste  was  veri- 
tably fascinating,  and  I  took  glass  after  glass,  with  a  con- 
tinual craving  for  more. 

This  watering-})]ace,  once  so  frequented,  is  now  compara- 
tively deserted.  But  fifty  guests  were  present,  and  they 
did  not  appear  to  be  very  splendid  persons.  The  grounds, 
however,  were  enlivened  by  the  presence  of  the  youths  and 
maidens  from  Hof.  I  visited  the  ICurhaus,  looked  into  tlie 
icy  plunge-baths  of  the  Hydropathic  establishment,  tasted 
some  very  hard  water,  and  then  took  tlie  broad  birchen 
avenue  which  climbs  to  the  Luisenburg.  On  entering  the 
forest  I  beheld  a  monument  erected  to  commemorate  the 
presence  of  Fred.  Wilhelm  III.  and  Louisa  of  Prussia,  in 
1805.  "  On  this  very  spot,"  said  my  guide,  "  the  King  and 
Queen,  with  King  Max.  I.  of  Bavaria  and  theEmperor  of  Aus- 
tria (!),  were  talking  together,  when  the  news  came  to  them 
that  Napoleon  was  in  Vienna.  They  hired  a  man  to  go  to 
Nuremberg  and  see  whether  it  was  true.  The  man — he  is 
still  living,  and  we  shall  probably  see  him  this  afternoon  [in 
fact,  I  did  see  him] — walked  all  the  way  [ninety  English 


A  WALK  TUKOUGU  THE  FKANCONIAX  SWITZERLAND.     ',il3 

miles]  in  twenty-four  hours,  then  rested  twenty-four  more, 
and  walked  back  in  the  same  time.  Then  the  King  of 
Prussia  immediately  went  home  and  decided  to  fight  against 
Napoleon,  which  was  the  cause  of  the  battle  of  Leipzig!" 

The  road  slowly  but  steadily  ascended,  and  in  half  au 
hour  we  reached  the  commencement  of  the  Luisenburg. 
Huge,  mossy  rocks,  piled  atop  of  one  another  in  the  wildest 
confusion,  overhung  the  way,  and  the  firs,  which  grew 
wherever  their  trunks  could  be  wedged  in,  formed  a  sun- 
proof canopy  above  them.  This  labyrinth  of  colossal 
granite  boulders,  called  the  Luisenburg  (or,  more  properly, 
the  Irngshurg^  its  original  name),  extends  to  the  summit 
of  the  mountain,  a  distance  of  eleven  hundred  feet.  It  is  a 
wilderness  of  Titanic  grottoes,  arches,  and  even  abutments 
of  regular  masonry,  of  astonishing  magnitude.  I  have  seen 
similar  formations  in  Saxony,  but  none  so  curiously  con- 
torted and  hurled  together. 

Although  this  place  has  been,  for  the  past  eighty  years,  a 
favorite  summer  resort  of  the  Bavarians,  it  has  scarcely  been 
heard  of  outside  of  Germany.  Jean  Paul,  during  his  residence 
at  Wunsiedel,  frequently  came  hither,  and  his  name  has  been 
given  to  one  of  the  most  striking  rocky  chambers.  There 
is  an  abundance  of  inscriptions,  dating  mostly  from  the  last 
decade  of  the  past  century,  and  exhibiting,  in  their  over- 
strained sentimentalism,  the  character  of  the  generation 
which  produced  "  Werther,"  "  Paul  and  Virginia,"  and 
"  The  Children  of  the  Abbey."  In  Klinger's  Grotto,  the 
roof  of  which  is  formed  by  an  immense  block  fifty-four  feet 
long  and  forty-four  feet  broad,  there  is  a  tablet,  erected  in 
1794  by  a  certain  Herr  von  Carlowitz,  on  which  he  says  : 

14 


314  AT    HOaiE   AND    ABROAD, 

"  My  wish  is  to  enjoy  my  life  unnoticed,  and  happily  mar- 
ried, and  to  be  worthy  of  the  tears  of  the  good  when  I  fear- 
lessly depart !"  This  is  all  very  well ;  but  it  can  scarcely 
be  expected  that  for  centuries  to  come  the  world  will  care 
much  whether  Herr  von  Carlowitz  was  happily  married 
or  not. 

Climbing  upward  through  the  labyrinthine  clefts  of  the 
rocks,  we  find  everywhere  similar  records.  The  names 
"  Otto,  Therese,  Amalie,"  deeply  engraved,  proclaim  the 
fact  that  the  present  King  of  Greece  met  his  two  sisters 
here,  in  1836,  Just  above  them  six  enormous  blocks  are 
piled  one  upon  the  other,  reaching  almost  to  the  tops  of  the 
firs.  This  was  a  favorite  resort  of  Louisa  of  Prussia,  and. 
the  largest  rock,  accordingly,  bears  the  following  descrip- 
tion :  "When  Ave  behold  the  mild  rays  of  the  lovely  spring 
sun  shining  on  this  rocky  colossus,  we  think  on  the  gentle 
glance  of  blissful  grace  wherewith  Louisa  to-day  made  us 
happy :  and  the  rock  itself  suggests  our  love  and  fidelity  to 
her!"  As  a  specimen  of  aristocratic  sentiment,  this  is 
unparalleled.  Beyond  this  point  the  immense  masses  lean 
against  each  other,  blocking  up  the  path  and  sloping  for- 
ward, high  overhead,  as  if  in  the  act  of  falling.  In  1798 
somebody  placed  the  inscription  here,  "  Thus  far  shalt  thou 
come,  and  no  farther ;"  but  under  it  is  carved,  "  I  made  the 
attempt,  and  behold!  I  went  farther.  1804."  A  ladder 
enables  you  to  reach  an  opening,  whence  the  path,  travers- 
ing sunless  clefts,  crawling  through  holes  and  scaling  gigan- 
tic piles  of  the  formless  masonry  of  the  Deluge,  reaches  the 
summit.  Here,  on  a  lonely  rock,  still  stands  a  single  tower 
of  the  old  robber-fortress  which  was  destroyed  in  the  thii- 


A  WALK  THBOUGH  THE  FEANCONIAN  SWITZERLAND.     315 

teenth  century  by  Philip  of  Streitberg,  in  revenge  for  the 
abduction  of  his  bride  by  the  knight  of  the  Lugsburg. 

From  the  tower  we  had  fine  views  to  the  north,  east, 
and  west.  The  day  could  not  have  been  more  fortunately 
chosen.  The  air  was  unusually  clear,  and  the  distant 
villages  showed  with  remarkable  distinctness,  yet  a  light 
golden  shimmer  was  spread  over  the  landscape,  and,  by 
contrast  with  the  dark  firs  around  us,  it  seemed  like  an 
illuminated  picture  painted  on  a  transparent  canvas. 

On  the  side  of  one  of  the  largest  boulders  is  an  inscrip- 
tion recommending  those  who  are  at  enmity  to  mount  tho 
rock  and  behold  the  landscape,  as  a  certain  means  of  recon- 
ciliation. It  records  the  meeting  of  two  estranged  friends, 
who  first  looked  around  them  and  then  fell  into  each 
other's  arms,  without  a  word.  This  was  truly  German. 
Enemies  of  Anglo-Saxon  blood,  I  am  afraid,  would  have 
tried  to  push  each  other  off  the  rock  instead  of  allowing 
the  scenery  to  reconcile  them.  One  more  inscription,  the 
climax  of  sentiment,  and  I  will  cease  to  copy  :  "  Nature  is 
great.  Love  is  divine.  Longing  is  infinite,  Dreams  are  rich ; 
only  the  human  heart  is  poor.  And  yet — fortunate  is  he 
who  feels  this,  miserable  he  who  does  not  even  suspect  it. 
Thou  losest  a  dream  and  winn'st — Rest !"  To  be  candid, 
silly  as  many  of  these  inscriptions  were,  they  gave  a  human 
interest  to  the  spot.  Even  the  record  of  human  vanity  is 
preferable  to  the  absence  of  any  sign  of  man. 

Feeling  myself  in  tolerable  condition,  I  went  on,  along  the 
crest  of  the  mountain,  to  the  Burgstein,  a  mass  of  rock 
one  hundred  feet  high,  and  crowning  a  summit  nearly 
three  thousand  feet  above  the  sea.    The  top  is  about  seven 


316  AT    HOME   AND    AHUOAD. 

by  nine  feet  in  compass,  and  inclosed  by  a  strong  railing  to 
prevent  the  visitor  from  being  blown  off.  Hence  I  looked 
far  down  into  the  Upper  Palatinate  of  Bavaria,  away  to 
the  blue  Bohemian  mountains,  and,  to  the  west,  on  all  the 
dark  summits  of  the  Fichtelgebirge.  The  villages  shone 
"white  and  red  in  the  sun ;  the  meadow-ponds  were  sapphires 
set  in  emerald,  and  the  dark-purple  tint  of  the  forests 
mottled  the  general  golden-green  lustre  of  the  landscape. 
A  quarter  of  an  hour  further  is  the  Haberstein,  a  wonderful 
up-building  of  rock,  forming  a  double  tower,  from  eighty 
to  a  hundred  feet  high. 

On  returning  to  Wunsiedel  I  did  not  neglect  to  visit 
Jean  Paul's  birth-place — a  plain,  substantial  house,  adjoin- 
ing the  church.  Here  the  street  forms  a  small  court,  in 
the  centre  of  which,  on  a  pedestal  of  granite,  stands  a 
bronze  bust  of  the  great  man.  The  inscription  is  :  "  Wun- 
siedel to  her  Jean  Pmd  Fr.  Hichter.''''  Nothing  could  be 
simpler  or  more  appropriate.  In  front,  the  broad  street, 
lined  with  large,  cheerful  yellow  or  pink  houses,  stretches 
down  the  hill  and  closes  with  a  vista  of  distant  mountains. 
The  place  is  very  gay,  clean,  and  attractive,  notwithstand- 
ing its  humble  position.  Jean  Paul  describes  it  completely, 
when  he  says :  "  I  am  glad  to  have  been  born  in  thee,  thou 
bright  little  town !'' 

I  was  aroused  the  next  morning  by  the  singing  of  a 
hymn,  followed  by  the  beating  of  a  drum.  Both  sounds 
proceeded  from  a  company  of  twenty  or  more  small  boys, 
pupils  of  a  school  at  Ebersdorf  (in  tlie  Franconian  Forest), 
who,  accompanied  by  their  teachers,  Avere  making  a  tour  on 
foot  through  the  Fichtelgebirge.    The  sight  admonished 


A  WALK  THROUGH  THE  FBANCONIAX  SWITZERLAND.     317 

me  to  rosuine  my  march,  as  I  intended  going  southward  to 
Kemnath,  in  the  Upper  Palatinate.  The  wind  blew  fresh 
from  the  southwest,  and  heavy  black  clouds  filled  the  sky. 
My  road  led  up  a  valley  between  the  twin  mountain-groups, 
crossing  a  ridge  which  divides  the  waters  of  Europe.  The 
forests  were  as  black  as  ink  under  the  shadows  of  the 
clouds,  and  the  distant  hills  had  a  dark  indigo  color,  which 
gave  a  remarkable  tone  to  the  landscape.  Take  a  picture 
of  Salvator  Rosa  and  substitute  blue  for  brown,  and  you 
may  form  some  idea  of  it. 

Presently  the  rain  came,  at  first  in  scattering  drops,  but 
soon  in  a  driving  shower.  My  guide,  to  keep  up  my  spirits, 
talked  on  and  on  in  the  broad  Prankish  dialect,  which 
I  could  only  comprehend  by  keeping  all  my  faculties  on 
a  painful  stretch.  "  Down  in  the  Palatinate,"  said  he,  "  the 
people  speak  a  very  difficult  language.  They  cut  off  all 
the  words,  and  bring  out  the  pieces  very  fast."  This  was 
precisely  what  he  himself  did  !  For  instance,  what  German 
scholar  could  understand  "  wicPr  a  weng  renga  .^"  (wieder 
ein  wenig  Regen) — which  was  one  of  the  clearest  of  his 
expressions.  To  beguile  the  rainy  road  he  related  to  me 
the  history  of  a  band  of  robbers,  who  in  the  years  1845 
and  '46  infested  the  Franconian  mountains,  and  plundered 
the  highways  on  all  sides. 

By  this  time  I  had  the  Fichtelgebirge  behind  me,  and 
the  view  opened  southward,  down  the  valley  of  the  Nab. 
The  Mauhe  Kulm^  an  isolated  basaltic  peak,  lifted  its  head 
in  the  middle  of  the  landscape,  and  on  the  left  rose  the 
long,  windy  ridge  of  the  Weissenstein.  Here  and  there  a 
rocky  summit  was  crowned  with  the  ruins  of  an  ancient 


318  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

robber-castle.  But  the  scene  would  have  been  frightful  on 
canvas,  it  lay  so  bleak  and  rigid  under  the  rainy  sky.  In 
two  hours  more  I  passed  the  boundary  between  Franconia 
and  the  Upper  Palatinate. 

Here  my  Franeonian  excursion  closes.  The  next  day 
I  reached  Amberg,  on  the  Eastei-n  Bavarian  Railway, 
having  accomplished  about  a  hundred  miles  on  foot,  to  the 
manifest  improvement  of  one  knee  at  the  expense  of  the 
other.  But  I  had,  in  addition,  a  store  of  cheerful  and 
refreshing  experiences,  and  my  confidence  in  the  Walking, 
Cure  is  so  little  shaken  that  I  j^ropose,  at  some  future  time, 
trying  a  second  experiment  in  the  Bohemian  Forest — a 
region  still  less  known  to  the  tourist,  if  possible,  than  the 
Franeonian  Switzerland. 


V. 

TRAVELS  AT  HOME. 


1. — ^The  Hudson  and  The  Catskiixs. 

July,  1860. 
I  HAVE  been  so  often  asked,  "  Where  are  you  going 
next  ?"  and  have  so  often  answered,  "  I  am  going  to  travel 
at  home,"  that  what  was  at  first  intended  for  a  joke  has 
naturally  resolved  itself  into  a  reality.  The  genuine  travel- 
ler has  a  chronic  dislike  of  railways,  and  if  he  be  in  addi- 
tion a  lecturer,  who  is  obliged  to  sit  in  a  cramped  position 
and  breathe  bad  air  for  five  months  of  the  year,  he  is  the 
less  likely  to  prolong  his  Winter  tortures  through  the  Sum- 
mer. Hence,  it  is  scarcely  a  wonder  that,  although  I  have 
seen  so  much  of  our  country,  I  have  travelled  so  little  in  it. 
I  knew  the  Himalayas  before  I  had  seen  the  Green  Moun- 
tains, .the  Cataracts  of  the  Nile  before  Niagara,  and  the 
Libyan  Desert  before  the  Illinois  prairies.  I  have  never 
yet  (let  me  make  the  disgraceful  confession  at  the  outset) 


320  AT   HOME  AND   ABEOAD. 

beheld  the  White  Mountains,  or  Quebec,  or  the  Saguenay, 
or  Lake  George,  or  Trenton  Falls ! 

In  all  probability,  I  should  now  be  at  home,  enjoying 
Summer  indolence  under  the  shade  of  my  oaks,  were  it  not 
for  the  visit  of  some  European  friends,  who  have  come  over 
to  see  the  land  which  all  their  kindness  could  not  make 
their  friend  forget.  The  latter,  in  fact,  possesses  a  fair 
share  of  the  national  sensitiveness,  and  defended  his 
country  with  so  much  zeal  and  magnificent  assertions,  that 
his  present  visitors  were  not  a  little  curious  to  see  whether 
their  own  impressions  would  correspond  with  his  pictures. 
He,  on  the  other  hand,  being  anxious  to  maintain  his  own 
as  well  as  his  country's  credit,  oiFered  his  services  as  guide 
and  showman  to  Our  Mountains,  Rivers,  Lakes,  and  Cata- 
racts ;  and  this  is  how  he  (I,  you  understand)  came  to  start 
upon  the  present  journey. 

On  the  whole,  I  think  it  a  good  plan,  not  to  see  all  your 
own  country  until  after  you  have  seen  other  lands.  It  is 
easy  to  say,  with  the  school-girls,  "  I  adore  Nature !" — but 
he  who  adores,  never  criticises.  "  What  a  beautiful  view  !" 
every  one  may  cry :  "  why  is  it  beautiful  ?''  would  puzzle 
many  to  answer.  Long  study,  careful  observation,  and 
various  standards  of  comparison  are  necessary — as  much  so 
as  in  Art — to  enable  one  to  pronounce  upon  the  relative 
excellence  of  scenery.  I  shall  have,  on  this  tour,  the  assist- 
ance of  a  pair  of  experienced,  appreciative  foreign  eyes,  in 
addition  to  my  own,  and  you  may  therefore  rely  upon  my 
giving  you  a  tolerably  impartial  report  upon  American  life 
and  landscapes. 

When  one  has  a  point  to  carry,  the  beginning  is  every 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  321 

thing.  I  therefore  embarked  with  my  friends  on  a  North 
River  day-boat,  at  the  Harrison-street  pier.  The  calliope, 
or  steam-organ  attached  to  the  machine,  was  playing  "  Jor- 
dan's a  hard  road  to  travel,"  with  astonishing  shrillness  and 
power.  "  There's  an  American  invention !"  I  exclaimed,  in 
triumph ;  "  the  waste  steam,  instead  of  being  blown  off,  is 
turned  into  an  immense  hand-organ,  and  made  to  grind  out 
this  delightful  music."  By-and-by,  however,  came  one  of 
my  companions,  who  announced  :  "  I  have  discovered  the 
origin  of  the  music,"  and  thereupon  showed  me  a  box  of 
green  wire-gauze,  in  which  sat  a  slender  youth,  manipulat- 
ing a  key-board  with  wonderful  contortions.  This  dis- 
covery explained  to  us  why  certain  passages  were  sluri-ed 
over  and  others  shrieked  out  with  awful  vehemence — a  fact 
which  we  had  previously  attributed  to  the  energy  of  the 
steam. 

Other  disappointments  awaited  me.  The  two  foregoing 
days  had  been  insufferably  warm — 92°  in  the  shade — and 
we  were  all,  at  my  recommendation,  clad  in  linen.  "  This 
is  just  the  weather  for  the  Hudson,"  said  I;  "the  motion 
of  the  boat  will  fan  away  the  heat,  while  this  intense  sun- 
shine will  beautify  the  shoi'es."  But,  by  the  time  we 
reached  Weehawken,  the  north  wind  blew  furiously,  streak- 
ing the  water  with  long  ribands  of  foam ;  we  unpacked 
heavy  shawls  and  coats,  and  were  still  half  frozen.  The  air 
was  so  very  clear  and  keen  that  the  scenery  was  too  distinct 
— a  common  fault  of  our  American  sky — destroying  the 
charm  of  perspective  and  color.  My  friends  would  not 
believe  in  the  actual  breadth  of  the  Hudson  or  the  height 
of  the  Palisades,  so  near  were  the  shores  brought  by  the 

11* 


822  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

lens  of  the  air.  The  eastern  bank,  from  Spuyten-Duyvel 
to  Tarrytown,  reminded  them  of  the  Elbe  between  Ham- 
burg and  Blankenese,  a  comparison  which  I  found  correct. 
Tappan  and  Haverstraw  Bays  made  the  impression  I 
desired,  and  thenceforth  I  felt  that  our  river  would  amj^ly 
justify  his  fame. 

Several  years  had  passed  since  I  had  seen  the  Hudson 
from  the  deck  of  a  steamer.  I  found  great  changes,  and 
for  the  better.  The  elegant  summer  residences  of  the  New 
Yorkers,  peeping  out  from  groves,  nestled  in  warm  dells, 
or,  most  usually,  crowning  the  highest  points  of  the  hills, 
now  extend  more  than  half-way  to  Albany.  The  trees 
have  been  judiciously  spared,  straggling  woods  carved  into 
shape,  stony  slopes  converted  into  turf,  and,  in  fact,  the 
long  landscape  of  the  eastern  bank  gardened  into  more 
perfect  beauty.  Those  Gothic,  Tuscan,  and  Norman  villas, 
with  their  air  of  comfort  and  home,  give  an  attractive, 
human  sentiment  to  the  scenery,  and  I  would  not  exchange 
them  for  the  castles  of  the  Rhine. 

Our  boat  was  crowded,  mostly  with  Southerners,  who 
might  be  recognised  by  their  lank,  sallow  faces,  and  the 
broad,  semi-negro  accent  with  which  they  spoke  the  Ame- 
rican tongue.  How  long,  I  wondered,  before  these  Chivs 
(the  California  term  for  Southerners — an  abbreviation  of 
Chivalry)  start  the  exciting  topic,  the  discussion  of  which 
they  80  deprecate  in  us  ?  Not  an  hour  had  elapsed,  when, 
noticing  a  small  crowd  on  the  forward  deck,  I  discovered 
half  a  dozen  Chivs  expatiating  to  some  Northern  youth  on 
the  beauties  of  Slavery.  The  former  were  very  mild  and 
guarded  in  their  expressions,  as  if  fearful  that  the  outrages 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  323 

inflicted  on  Northern  men  in  the  South  might  be  returned 
upon  them.  "  Why,''  said  one  of  them,  "  it's  our  interest 
to  treat  our  slaves  well ;  if  we  lose  one,  we  lose  a  thousand 
dollars — you  may  be  shore  of  that.  No  man  will  be  so  much 
of  a  d — d  fool  as  to  waste  his  own  property  in  that  way." 

"  Just  as  we  take  care  of  our  horses,"  remarked  a  North- 
ern youth ;  "  it's  about  the  same  thing,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Well — yes — it  is  pretty  much  the  same,  only  we  treat 
'em  more  humanitary,  of  course.  Then  agin,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  when  you've  got  two  races  together,  a  higher  and 
a  lower,  what  are  you  gwme  to  do  ?  " — but  you  have  read 
the  rest  of  his  remarks  in  a  speech  of  Caleb  Gushing,  and  I 
need  not  repeat  them. 

The  Highlands,  of  course,  impressed  my  friends  as  much 
as  I  could  have  wished.  It  is  customary  among  our  tour- 
ists to  deplore  the  absence  of  ruins  on  those  heights — a 
very  unnecessary  regret,  in  my  opinion.  To  show  that  we 
had  associations  fully  as  inspiring  as  those  connected  with 
feudal  warfare,  I  related  the  story  of  Stony  Point,  and 
Andre's  capture,  and  pointed  out,  successively,  Kosciusko's 
Monument,  old  Fort  Putnam,  and  Washington's  Head- 
quarters. Sunnyside  was  also  a  classic  spot  to  my  friends, 
nor  was  Idlewild  forgotten.  "  Oh,"  said  a  young  lady,  as 
we  were  passing  Cold  Spring,  "  where  does  the  poet  Morris 
live  ? ''  Although  I  was  not  the  person  appealed  to,  I  took 
the  liberty  of  showing  her  the  dwelling  of  the  warrior- 
bard.  "  You  will  observe,"  I  added,  "  that  the  poet  has 
a  full  view  of  Cro'nest,  which  he  has  immortalized  in  song. 
Yonder  willow,  trailing  its  branches  in  the  water,  is  said 
to  have  suggested  to  him  that  gem. 


324  AT    HOME    AND    AIIIIOAD. 

"  '  Near  the  lake  where  drooped  the  willow.'  " 

"  Ob,   Clara ! "  said   the  young   lady  to   her   companion, 
"  isn't  it — isnPt  it  sweet  i"' 

In  due  time,  we  reached  Catskill,  and  made  all  haste  to 
get  off  for  the  Mountain  House.  There  are  few  summits 
so  easy  of  access — certainly  no  other  mountain  resort  in 
our  country  where  the  facilities  of  getting  up  and  down  are 
so  complete  and  satisfactory.  The  journey  would  be  tame, 
however,  were  it  not  for  the  superb  view  of  the  mountains, 
rising  higher,  and  putting  on  a  deeper  blue,  with  every 
mile  of  approach.  The  intermediate  country  has  a  rough, 
ragged,  incomplete  look.  The  fields  are  stony,  the  houses 
mostly  untidy,  the  crops  thin,  and  the  hay  (this  year,  at 
least)  scanty.  Even  the  woods  appear  stunted :  fine  tree- 
forms  are  rare.  My  friends  were  so  charmed  by  the  pur- 
ple asclepiads,  which  they  had  never  before  seen  except  in 
green-houses,  the  crimson-spiked  sumachs,  and  the  splendid 
fire-lilies  in  the  meadows,  that  they  overlooked  the  want 
of  beauty  in  the  landscape. 

On  reaching  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  the  character  of  the 
scenery  entirely  changes.  The  trees  in  Rip  Van  Winkle's 
dell  are  large  and  luxuriantly  leaved,  Avliile  the  backward 
views,  enframed  with  foliage  and  softly  painted  by  the  blue 
pencil  of  the  air,  grow  more  charming  as  you  ascend.  Ere 
long,  the  sliadow  of  the  towering  North  Mountain  Avas 
flung  over  us,  as  we  walked  up  in  advance  of  the  laboring 
horses.  The  road  was  bathed  in  sylvan  coolness ;  the  noise 
of  an  invisible  stream  beguiled  the  steepness  of  the  way ; 
emerald  ferns  sprang  from  the  rocks,  and  the  red  blossoms 
of  the  showy  rnhHs  and  the  pale  blush  of  the  laurel  bright- 


TRAVELS    AT    HOME.  325 

ened  the  gloom  of  the  undergrowth.  It  is  fortunate  that 
the  wood  has  not  been  cut  away,  and  but  rare  glimpses 
of  the  scenes  below  are  allowed  to  the  traveller.  Landing 
in  the  rear  of  the  Mountain  House,  the  huge  white  mass 
of  which  completely  shuts  out  the  view,  thirty  paces  bring 
you  to  the  brink  of  the  rock,  and  you  h^ng  suspended,  as 
if  by  magic,  over  the  world. 

It  was  a  quarter  of  an  hour  before  sunset — perhaps  the 
best  moment  of  the  day  for  the  Catskill  panorama.  The 
shadows  of  the  mountain-tops  reached  nearly  to  the  Hudson, 
while  the  sun,  shining  directly  down  the  Clove,  interposed 
a  thin  wedge  of  golden  lustre  between.  The  farm-houses 
on  a  thousand  hills  beyond  the  river  sparkled  in  the  glow, 
and  the  Berkshire  Mountains  swam  in  a  luminous,  rosy 
mist.  The  shadows  strode  eastward  at  the  rate  of  a  league 
a  minute  as  we  gazed;  the  forests  darkened,  the  wheat- 
fields  became  brown,  and  the  houses  glimmered  like  extin- 
guished stars.  Then  the  cold  north  wind  blew,  roaring  in 
the  pines,  the  last  lurid  purple  faded  away  from  the  distant 
hills,  and  in  half  an  hour  the  world  below  was  as  dark  and 
strange  and  spectral,  as  if  it  were  an  unknown  planet  we 
were  passing  on  our  journey  through  space. 

The  scene  from  Catskill  is  unlike  any  other  mountain 
view  that  I  know.  It  is  imposing  through  the  very  sim- 
plicity of  its  features.  A  line  drawn  from  north  to  south 
through  the  sphere  of  vision  divides  it  into  two  equal 
parts.  The  western  half  is  mountain,  falling  off  in  a  line  of 
rock  parapet;  the  eastern  is  a  vast  semi-circle  of  blue  land- 
scape, half  a  mile  lower.  Owing  to  the  abrupt  rise  of  the 
mountain,  the  nearest  farms  at  the  base  seem  to  be  almost 


326  •     AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

under  one's  feet,  and  the  country  as  far  as  the  Hudson 
presents  the  same  appearance  as  if  seen  from  a  balloon. 
Its  undulations  have  vanished ;  it  is  as  flat  as  a  pancake ; 
and  even  the  bold  line  of  hills  stretching  toward  Saugerties 
can  only  be  distinguished  by  the  color  of  the  forests  upon 
them.  Beyond  the  river,  although  the  markings  of  the 
hills  are  lost,  the  rapid  rise  of  the  country  from  the  water 
level  is  very  distinctly  seen :  the  whole  region  appears  to 
be  lifted  on  a  sloping  plane,  so  as  to  expose  the  greatest 
possible  surface  to  the  eye.  On  the  horizon,  the  Hudson 
Highlands,  the  Berkshire  and  Green  Mountains,  unite  their 
chains,  forming  a  continuous  line  of  misty  blue. 

At  noonday,  under  a  cloudless  sky,  the  picture  is  rather 
monotonous.  After  the  eye  is  accustomed  to  its  grand, 
aerial  depth,  one  seeks  relief  in  spying  out  the  character- 
istics of  the  separate  farms,  or  in  watching  specks  (of  the 
size  of  fleas)  crawling  along  the  highways.  Yonder  man 
and  horse,  going  up  and  down  between  the  rows  of  corn, 
resemble  a  little  black  bug  on  a  bit  of  striped  calico. 
When  the  sky  is  full  of  moving  clouds,  however,  nothing 
can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  shifting  masses  of  light  and 
shade,  traversing  such  an  immense  field.  There  are,  also, 
brief  moments  when  the  sun  or  moon  are  reflected  in 
the  Hudson — when  rainbows  bend  slantingly  beneath  you, 
striking  bars  of  seven-hued  flame  across  the  landscape — 
when,  even,  the  thunders  march  below,  and  the  fountains 
of  the  rain  are  under  your  feet. 

What  most  impressed  ray  friends  was  the  originality  of 
the  view.  Familiar  with  the  best  mountain  scenery  of 
Europe,  they  could  find  nothing  with  which  to  compare  it. 


TEAVKLS   AT   HOME.  32*7 

As  my  movements  during  this  journey  are  guided  entirely 
by  their  wishes,  I  was  glad  when  they  said ;  "  Let  us  stay 
here  another  day !'' 

At  the  foot  of  the  Catskill,  the  laurel  showed  its  dark-red 
seed  vessels ;  halfway  up,  the  last  faded  blossoms  w^ere 
dropping  off;  but,  as  we  approached  the  top,  the  dense 
thickets  were  covered  with  a  glory  of  blossoms.  Far  and 
near,  in  the  caverns  of  shade  under  the  pines  and  oaks  and 
maples,  flashed  whole  mounds  of  flowers,  white  and  blush- 
color,  dotted  with  the  vivid  pink  of  the  crimped  buds. 
The  finest  Cape  azaleas  and  ericas  are  scarcely  more  beau- 
tiful than  our  laurel.  Between  those  mounds  bloomed  the 
flame-colored  lily,  scarcely  to  be  distinguished,  at  a  little 
distance,  from  the  breast  of  an  oriole.  The  forest  scenery 
was  a  curious  amalgamation  of  Norway  and  the  tropics. 
"  What  a  land,  what  a  climate,"  exclaimed  one  of  my 
friends,  "  that  can  support  such  inconsistencies  !"  "  After 
this,"  I  replied,  "  it  will  perhaps  be  easier  for  you  to  com- 
prehend the  apparent  inconsistencies,  the  opposing  elements, 
which  you  will  find  in  the  American  character," 

The  next  morning  we  walked  to  the  Katterskill  Falls. 
Since  my  last  visit  (in  1851)  a  handsome  hotel — the  Laurel 
House — has  been  erected  here  by  Mr.  Schutt.  The  road 
into  the  Clove  has  also  been  improved,  and  the  guests  at 
the  Mountain  House  make  frequent  excursions  into  the  wild 
heart  of  the  Catskill  region,  especially  to  Stony  Clove, 
fourteen  miles  distant,  at  the  foot  of  the  blue  mountain 
which  faces  you  as  you  look  down  the  Katterskill  glen. 
The  Falls  are  very  lovely  (I  think  that  is  the  proper  word) — 
they  will  bear  seeing  many  times — but  don't  believe  those 


328  AT   HOME    AND   ABKOAD. 

who  tell  you  that  they  surpass  Xiagara.  Some  people  have 
a  habit  of  pronouncing  every  last  view  they  see :  "  the 
finest  thing  in  the  World !" 

The  clamming  up  of  the  water,  so  much  deprecated  by 
the  romantic,  strikes  me  as  an  admirable  arrangement. 
When  the  dam  is  full,  the  stream  overruns  it  and  you  have 
as  much  water  as  if  there  were  no  dam.  Then,  as  you 
stand  at  the  head  of  the  lower  fall,  watching  the  slender 
scarf  of  silver  fluttering  down  the  black  gulf,  comes  a 
sudden  dazzling  rush  from  the  summit ;  the  fall  leaps  away 
from  the  half-way  ledge  where  it  lingered ;  bursting  in 
rockets  and  shooting  stars  of  spray  on  the  rocks,  and  you 
have  the  full  eifect  of  the  stream  when  swollen  by  spring 
thaws.  Really,  this  temporary  increase  of  volume  is  the 
finest  feature  of  the  fall. 

No  visitor  to  Catskill  should  neglect  a  visit  to  the 
North  and  South  Mountains.  The  views  from  these  points, 
although  almost  identical  with  that  from  the  house,  have 
yet  different  foregrounds,  and  embrace  additional  segments 
of  the  horizon.  The  North  Peak,  I  fancy,  must  have  been 
in  Bryant's  mind,  when  he  wrote  his  poem  of  "  The 
Hunter."  Those  beautiful  features,  which  hovered  before 
the  hunter's  eyes,  in  the  blue  gulf  of  air,  as  he  dreamed  on 
the  rock — are  they  not  those  of  the  same  maiden  who, 
rising  from  the  still  stream,  enticed  Goethe's  "  Fisher"  into 
its  waves  ? — the  poetic  embodiment  of  that  fascination 
which  lurks  in  height  and  depth  ?  Opposite  the  North 
Rock,  there  is  a  weather-beaten  pine,  which  springing  from 
the  mountain-side  below,  lifts  its  head  just  to  the  level  of 
the  rock,  and  not  more  than  twelve  feet  in  front  of  it.     I 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  329 

never  see  it  without  feeling  a  keen  desire  to  spring  from 
the  rock  and  lodge  in  its  top.  The  Hanlon  Brothers,  or 
Blondin,  I  presume,  would  not  have  the  least  objection  to 
perform  such  a  feat. 

In  certain  conditions  of  the  atmosphere,  the  air  between 
you  and  the  lower  world  seems  to  become  a  visible  fluid — 
an  ocean  of  pale,  crystalline  blue,  at  the  bottom  of  which 
the  landscape  lies.  Peering  down  into  its  depths,  you  at 
last  experience  a  numbness  of  the  senses,  a  delicious  wan- 
dering of  the  imagination,  such  as  follows  the  fifth  pipe  of 
opium.  Or,  in  the  words  of  Walt.  Whitman,  you  "  loaf, 
and  invite  your  soul." 

The  guests  we  found  at  the  Mountain  House  were  rather 
a  quiet  company.  Several  families  were  quartered  there 
for  the  season  ;  but  it  was  perhaps  too  early  for  the  even- 
ing hops  and  sunrise  flirtations  Avhich  I  noticed  ten  years 
ago.  Parties  formed  and  strolled  off"  quietly  into  the 
woods ;  elderly  gentlemen  sank  into  arm-chairs  on  the 
rocks,  and  watched  the  steamers  on  the  Hudson ;  nnrses 
pulled  venturous  children  away  from  the  precipice,  and 
young  gentlemen  from  afar  sat  on  the  veranda,  and  wrote 
in  their  note-books.  You  would  not  have  guessed  the 
number  of  guests,  if  you  had  not  seen  them  at  table.  I 
found  this  quiet,  this  nonchalance,  this  "  take  care  of  your- 
self and  let  other  people  alone"  characteristic  very  agree- 
able, and  the  difierence,  in  this  respect,  since  my  last  visit, 
leads  me  to  hope  that  there  has  been  a  general  improve- 
ment (which  was  highly  necessary)  in  the  public  manners 
of  the  Americans. 


330  at  home  and  abroad. 

2. — Berkshike  and  Boston. 

We  descended  the  mountain  on  the  third  day,  in  a  lum- 
bering Troy  coach,  in  company  with  a  pleasant  Quaker 
family,  took  the  steamer  to  Hudson,  dined  there  (indif- 
ferently), and  then  embarked  for  Pittsfield,  which  we  made 
a  stopping-place  on  the  way  to  Boston.  My  masculine 
companion,  who  is  a  thorough  European  agriculturist,  was 
much  struck  with  the  neglected  capacities  of  the  country 
through  which  we  passed.  His  admiration  of  our  agri- 
cultural implements  is  quite  overbalanced  by  his  deprecia- 
tion of  our  false  system  of  rotation  in  crops,  our  shocking 
waste  of  manures,  and  general  neglect  of  the  economies  of 
farming.     I  think  he  is  about  three-fourths  right. 

The  heat  was  intense  when  we  left  Hudson,  but,  during 
the  thousand  feet  of  ascent  between  that  place  and  Pitts- 
field,  we  came  into  a  fresher  air.  A  thunder  shower,  an 
hour  previous,  had  obligingly  laid  the  dust,  and  hung  the 
thickets  with  sparkling  drops.  The  Taghkanic  Mountains 
rose  dark  and  clear  above  the  rapid  landscapes  of  the  rail- 
road :  finally  old  Greylock  hove  in  sight,  and  a  good  hour 
before  sunset  we  reached  Pittsfield.  As  I  never  joined  the 
noble  order  of  the  Sponge — the  badge  whereof  so  many 
correspondents  ojienly  sport — but  pay  my  way  regularly, 
like  the  non-corresponding  crowd,  my  word  may  be  impli- 
citly taken  when  I  say  that  the  Berkshire  House  is  one  of 
the  quietest  and  pleasantest  hotels  in  the  country. 

Here  let  me  say  a  word  about  hotels  in  general.  The 
purpose  of  a  tavern,  hostel,  inn,  hotel,  house,  or  whatever 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  331 

it  may  be  called,  is,  I  take  it,  to  afford  a  temporary  home 
for  those  who  are  away  fi-oia  home.  Hence,  that  hotel 
only  deserves  the  name,  which  allows  each  of  its  guests  to 
do  as  he  pleases,  no  one  conflicting  with  the  rights  of  the 
others.  If  I  would  not  allow  close,  unventilated  bed-rooms, 
lack  of  water,  towels  the  size  of  a  handkerchief,  dirty  sheets 
and  general  discomfort,  in  the  home  I  build  for  myself, 
should  I  not  be  permitted  to  eschew  such  things  in  the 
home  I  hire  for  a  night?  Should  I  not  call  for  what  I 
want,  and  have  it,  if  it  is  to  be  had  ?  Should  I,  late 
arrived,  and  suffering  from  loss  of  sleep,  be  roused  at  day- 
light by  a  tremendous  gong  at  my  door,  and  be  obliged  to 
rush  down  to  breakfast,  under  penalty  of  losing  it  alto- 
gether ?  But  in  too  many  of  our  hotels  the  rule  is  the 
reverse.  The  landlord  says,  in  practice:  "This  is  my 
house :  I  have  certain  rules  by  which  it  is  governed :  if 
you  pay  me  two  dollars  and  a  half  a  day,  T  will  grant  you 
the  privilege  of  submitting  to  my  orders."  One  is  often 
received  with  a  magnificent  condescension,  which  says,  as 
plainly  as  words :  "  See  what  a  favor  I  am  doing  you,  in 
receiving  yoxi  into  my  house  !"  In  reality  the  house,  the 
furniture,  the  servants,  do  not  belong  to  the  landlord,  but 
to  the  traveller.  I  intend  some  day  to  write  an  Essay  on 
Hotels,  in  which  I  shall  discuss  the  subject  at  length,  and 
therefore  will  not  anticipate  it  here. 

My  friends  were  delighted  with  Pittsfield,  which,  in  its 
summer  dress,  was  new  to  me.  We  spent  so  much  of  our 
time  at  the  windows,  watching  the  evening  lights  on  the 
mountains,  that  it  was  unanimously  resolved  to  undertake 
an  excursion  the  next  morning  before  the  arrival  of  the  ex- 


S32  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

press  train  for  Boston.  We  took  an  open  carriage  to  the 
Hancock  Settlement  of  Shakers,  four  miles  west  of  the  vil- 
lage. The  roads  were  in  splendid  order,  last  night's  rain 
having  laid  the  dust,  washed  the  trees,  and  given  the  wooded 
mountains  a  deeper  green.  The  elm,  the  characteristic  tree 
of  New  England,  charmed  us  by  the  variety  and  beauty  of 
its  forms.  The  elm,  rather  than  the  pine,  should  figure 
on  the  state  banner  of  Massachusetts.  In  all  other  trees — • 
the  oak,  the  beech,  the  ash,  the  maple,  the  gum,  and  tulip 
trees,  the  pine,  even — Massachusetts  is  surpassed  by  Penn- 
sylvania, Virginia,  Ohio,  and  Kentucky,  but  the  elm  is  a 
plume  which  will  never  be  plucked  from  her  bonnet. 

"Here!"  said  one  of  my  companions,  pointing  to  one  of 
the  many  wooded  knolls  by  the  roadside,  "  is  one  of  the 
immeasurable  advantages  which  America  possesses  over 
Europe.  Every  one  of  these  groves  is  a  finished  home, 
lacking  only  the  house.  What  we  must  wait  a  century  to 
get,  what  we  must  be  rich  in  order  to  possess,  is  here  cheap 
and  universal.  Build  a  house  here  or  there,  cut  down  a 
tree  or  two  to  let  in  the  distant  landscape,  clear  away  some 
of  the  underwood,  and  you  have  a  princely  residence." 
Bear  in  mind,  my  fashionable  readers,  that  my  friend  has 
only  been  six  weeks  in  America ;  that  he  has  not  yet  learned 
the  difference  between  a  brown-stone  front  on  Fifth  Avenue 
and  a  clap-boarded  house  in  the  country ;  that  (I  blush  to 
say  it)  he  prefers  handsome  trees  out-of-doors  to  rosewood 
furniture  in-doors,  and.  would  rather  break  his  shins  climb- 
ing the  roughest  hills  than  ride  behind  matched  bays  in  a 
carriage  ornamented  with  purchased  heraldry.  I  admit 
his  want  of  civilization,  but  I  I'ecord  this  expression  of  his 


TRAVELS    AT   HOME.  333 

taste  that  you  may  smile  at  the  absurdity  of  European 
ideas. 

Our  approach  to  the  Shaker  settlement  was  marked  by 
the  superior  evidences  of  neatness  and  care  in  cultivation. 
The  road  became  an  avenue  of  stately  sugar  maples  ;  on  the 
right  rose,  in  pairs,  the  huge,  plain  residences  of  the  bre- 
thren and  sisters — ugly  structures,  dingy  in  color,  but  scru- 
pulously clean  and  orderly.  I  believe  the  same  aspect  of 
order  would  Increase  the  value  of  any  farm  five  dollars  an 
acre,  so  much  more  attractive  would  the  buyer  find  the 
property ;  but  farmers  generally  don't  understand  this.  We 
halted,  finally,  at  the  principal  settlement,  distinguished  by 
a  huge  circular  stone  barn.  The  buildings  stood  upon  a  lot 
grown  with  fresh  turf,  and  were  connected  by  flag  stone 
walks.  Mats  and  scrapers  at  the  door  testified  to  the  uni- 
versal cleanliness.  While  waiting  in  the  reception-room, 
which  was  plain  to  barrenness,  but  so  clean  that  its  very 
atmosphere  was  sweet,  I  amused  myself  by  reading  some 
printed  regulations,  the  conciseness  and  directness  of  which 
were  refreshing.  "  Visitors,"  so  ran  the  first  rule,  "  must 
remember,  that  this  is  not  a  public-house.  We  have  our 
regulations  just  as  well  as  other  people,  and  we  expect  that 
ours  will  be  observed  as  others  expect  theirs  to  be."  An- 
other was :  "  Those  who  obtain  lodging,  or  who  are  fur- 
nished with  meals  at  their  own  request,  are  expected  to  pay 
for  the  same."  One  of  the  most  important,  apparently, 
was  this :  "  Married  persons  visiting  the  Family  must  oc- 
cupy separate  apartments  during  the  time  of  their  stay." 

Presently,  an  ancient  sister  made  her  appearance.  She 
wore  a  very  plain  book-muslin  cap,  and  a  coarse  blue  gown, 


334  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

which  hung  so  straight  to  her  feet  that  more  than  one 
under-garment  was  scarcely  possible.  She  informed  us, 
courteously,  that  curious  strangers  like  ourselves  were  not 
usually  admitted,  but  made  an  exception  in  favor  of  my 
companions,  seeing  they  had  come  such  a  distance,  and 
called  one  of  the  brethren  to  show  us  the  barn.  This  is 
really  a  curious  structure.  The  inside  is  an  immense  mow, 
divided  into  four  sections  for  different  kinds  of  hay.  Next 
to  the  wall  is  a  massive  platform,  around  which  a  dozen 
carts  can  drive  and  unload  at  the  same  time.  Under  this 
platform  are  the  stables,  ranged  in  a  circle,  and  able  to 
accommodate  a  hundred  cattle.  The  brother,  with  an  air 
of  secresy  which  I  was  slow  to  understand,  beckoned  the 
gentlemen  of  our  party  to  a  portion  of  the  stable  where 
he  had  a  fine  two  year  old  bull,  which,  he  seemed  to  think, 
was  not  a  proper  animal  for  ladies  to  look  upon. 

The  sister  afterward  conducted  us  to  the  dairy,  where 
two  still  more  ancient  sisters  were  engaged  in  cutting  up 
curd  for  a  cheese.  They  showed  us  with  considerable 
pride  the  press-room,  cheese-room,  and  milk-room,  which 
were  cool  and  fragrant  with  the  rich  nutritive  smell  of  cheese 
and  whey.  The  dwellings  of  the  separated  sexes,  which  I 
was  most  desirous  to  see,  were  not  exhibited.  The  sis- 
ters referred  us  to  Lebanon,  where  strangers  are  habitually 
admitted.  The  only  peculiarity  of  their  speech  seemed  to 
be  the  use  of  the  "  Yea''  (which  they  pronounce  Yee)  and 
"  Nay,"  instead  of  "  Yes"  and  "  No !" 

Notwithstanding  their  apparent  cheerfulness  and  con- 
tentment, not  one  that  I  saw  seemed  to  be  completely 
healthy.    They  had  a  singularly  dry,  starved,  hungry,  lone- 


TBAVELS   AT   HOME.  335 

ly  look,  which — if  it  be  the  result  of  their  celibate  creed — 
is  a  sufficient  comment  upon  it.  That  grace  and  mellow 
ripeness  of  age  which  is  so  beautiful  and  so  attractive  in  the 
patriarch  of  an  abundant  family,  was  wholly  wanting.  No 
sweet  breath  of  house-warms  their  barren  chambers.  The 
fancied  purity  of  their  lives  is  like  the  vacuum  of  an  ex- 
hausted receiver,  whence  all  noxious  vapor  may  be  extract- 
ed, but  the  vital  air  with  it.  The  purest  life  is  that  of  the 
wedded  man  and  woman — ^the  best  of  Christians  are  the 
fathers  and  mothers. 


It  is  a  fact  that  most  of  our  railroad  lines  avoid  the  best 
scenery  of  the  United  States.  With  the  exception  of  a 
portion  of  the  New  York  and  Erie,  the  Hudson  River, 
Pennsylvania  Central,  and  Baltimore  and  Ohio,  I  cannot 
now  recall  any  road  which  affords  fair  pictures  of  the  region 
it  traverses.  This  is  especially  the  case  with  the  main  artery 
of  Massachusetts.  No  one,  flying  through  Berkshire  on  a 
Western  Railroad  train,  can  perceive  more  than  one-third 
of  its  actual  beauty.  Going  eastward,  on  our  way  to  Bos- 
ton, we  had  some  pleasant  glimpses  among  the  narrow  dells 
of  the  Berkshire  Hills,  but  the  valley  of  the  Connecticut, 
in  reality  so  lovely,  presents  but  a  tame  appearance.  The 
charm  of  Springfield — its  semi-circular  sweep  of  suburban 
villas — is  invisible,  and  Mount  Holyoke  shows  but  a  low, 
blue,  triangular  mass  in  the  north. 

To  one  fresh  from  the  exquisite  pastoral  scenery  of  Penn- 
sylvania, so  like  mid-England  in  its  smooth  fields,  its  hedge- 
rows, and  magnificent  troes,  the  country  between  Spring- 


336  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

field  and  Boston  seems  exceedingly  bleak  and  sterile.  The 
rocky,  gravelly  soil,  the  gloomy  woods  of  fir  and  pine,  or 
dwarfish  deciduous  trees,  the  clap-board  villages,  hinting 
of  a  new  Western  State  rather  than  of  one  of  the  mothers 
of  the  Republic,  must  disappoint,  I  fancy,  those  who  visit 
New  England  for  the  first  time.  At  least,  this  was  the  case 
with  my  friends.  "  Can  this  be  Massachusetts — this  barren 
region,  where  it  seems  impossible  for  a  farmer,  with  all  his 
industry,  to  do  more  than  barely  live  ?''  "  Think  a  mo- 
ment," I  answered,  "  and  you  will  perhaps  remember  that 
you  have  never  heard  the  soil  of  Massachusetts  praised,  but 
her  laws,  her  school  system,  her  morals,  and  her  men  I" 
These  it  is  that  have  made  her  what  she  is,  while  Virginia, 
favored  of  Heaven  in  regard  to  soil  and  climate,  has  become 
the  degenerate  Spain  of  our  Republic. 

Naturally,  the  eastern  portion  of  Massachusetts,  with  the 
exception  of  the  region  about  Wachuset,  and  some  points 
on  the  sea-coast,  is  neither  beautiful  nor  picturesque.  It  is 
not  only  rough,  with  an  indifferent  vegetable  development, 
but  monotonous  in  its  forms.  The  numerous  lakes — or 
ponds,  as  they  are  prosaically  called — constitute  a  redeem- 
ing feature.  It  is  astonishing  how  the  gleam  of  water 
brightens  the  commonest  landscape.  Here,  however,  where 
Nature  has  done  comparatively  little,  Man  ha^  done  a  great 
deal.  As  you  approach  Boston  the  roughest  region  is  yet 
a  region  of  homes.  The  granite  boulders,  so  unsightly  in 
a  field  of  grain,  become  ornaments  when  breaking  the 
smooth  turf  of  a  lawn  ;  tlie  scrubby  pines,  trimmed  and 
cared  for,  shoot  into  beautiful  trees,  and  one  elm,  growing 
and  expanding  in  the  symmetry  which  freedom  gives,  is  the 


TRAVELS    AT    no. ME.  337 

glory  of  an  entire  landscape.  Man  may  sometimes  defoi'm, 
but  ho  oftenest  improves  Nature :  it  is  mere  cant  to  assert 
the  contrary.  And  I  know  no  better  illustration  of  the  fact 
than  the  environs  of  Boston. 

As  we  flashed  past  the  quaint  wooden  cottages  of  New- 
ton and  Brighton,  my  friend  asked :  "  Are  those  houses 
really  meant  for  dwellings  ?  They  seem  to  me  too  sportive 
and  toy-like,  as  if  somebody  had  been  playing  at  village- 
making,  putting  down  a  house  here  and  a  house  there,  to 
see  how  it  would  look  best."  This  playful  character  of  the 
villages  never  struck  me  before,  but  it  is  one  which  would 
naturally  present  itself  to  an  eye  accustomed  to  the  solid, 
matter-of-fact,  unlovely  aspect  of  the  country-towns  of  Eu- 
rope. The  ru8  in  urhe  is  a  thing  never  seen  in  the  Old 
World,  unless,  rarely,  in  England.  We  are  too  used  to 
villages,  where  every  house  has  its  garden  and  its  threshold- 
trees,  to  appreciate  their  novelty  and  freshness  in  a  stran- 
ger's eyes. 

The  approach  to  Boston  is  almost  the  only  picturesque 
city-view  we  have  on  the  Atlantic  Coast.  The  broad  reach- 
es of  water,  the  cheerful  suburbs  on  either  hand,  the  long, 
gently-rising,  brick  hill  in  front,  crowned  with  the  yellow 
dome  of  the  State-House,  when  seen  in  the  tempered  even- 
ing light,  under  a  cloudless  sky,  form  an  imposing  and  truly 
attractive  picture.  New  York,  from  the  bay,  suggests  com- 
mercial activity  only ;  Philadelphia,  from  the  Delaware,  is 
the  tamest  of  cities;  but  Boston,  from  any  side,  owing  to 
her  elevation,  has  a  stately  charm  which  her  prouder  sisters 
do  not  possess. 

A  Boston  Sunday,  in  Winter,  is  a  day  of  sack-cloth  and 
15 


338  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

ashes.  A  foreigner  would  suppose  there  was  weekly  fast- 
ing and  prayer  for  some  great  national  calamity.  Instead 
of  an  expression  of  thankfulness  for  rest,  of  joy  in  the 
relaxation  from  toil,  of  happy  because  spontaneous  devo- 
tion, the  city  Avears  a  grim,  sullen,  funereal  aspect,  as  if 
undergoing  the  Sabbath  perforce,  but  with  a  strong  silent 
protest.  In  the  bright  summer  weather  of  July,  however, 
the  painful  precision  of  the  day  was  considerably  relaxed, 
and  the  faces  of  the  multitude  exhibited  a  profane  expres- 
sion of  cheerfulness.  In  the  afternoon,  piloted  by  two  poets, 
we  drove  up  and  down,  through  and  around,  the  enchant- 
ing southern  suburbs.  The  filling  up  of  Back  Bay — a 
municipal  work,  second  in  magnitude  only  to  the  raising  of 
the  city  of  Chicago  above  its  original  level — first  claimed 
our  attention.  The  Boston  of  the  next  half-century  will 
cover  the  spacious  plain  thus  created.  Incipient  streets 
already  branch  out  fiom  the  bottom  of  the  Common,  and 
stately  stone  dwellings,  in  Louis  Quatorze  style,  are  spring- 
ing up  with  magical  rapidity.  The  extension  of  Beacon 
street  is  the  beginning  of  a  Boston  Fifth  Avenue,  of  which 
the  city  is  not  a  little  proud. 

In  her  southern  suburbs,  however — in  Roxbury,  and  the 
hills  beyond,  and  princely  Brookline,  and  Brighton,  Boston 
may  challenge  comparison  with  almost  any  city  in  the 
world.  This  xmdulating  region,  dotted  with  crystal  ponds, 
superbly  \<'ooded,  and  covered  for  miles  with  country-seats 
in  every  conceivable  style  of  architecture,  from  the  once- 
prevalent  Grecian  temple  to  the  now-fashionable  mansard- 
roof,  is  a  portfolio  crammed  with  delicious  pictures.  The 
velvet  turf,  golden-green  in  sunshine,  the  trim  buckthorn 


TRAVELS    AT   HOME.  339 

hedges,  the  trellised  roses,  the  commingling  of  pine,  elm, 
maple,  larch,  chestnut,  and  fir  in  the  groves,  the  unexpected 
dells  and  water-glimpses,  the  gleam  of  towers  and  mellow- 
tinted  house-fronts  far  and  near,  the  old  avenues,  ribbed 
with  Gothic  boughs,  are  among  their  featui'es,  and  you  can 
scarcely  say  that  any  thing  is  wanting.  Many  of  the  houses, 
it  is  true,  are  too  much  buried  from  the  sun  and  air,  to  be 
healthy  residences  ;  but  they  are  none  the  less  beautiful  on 
that  account.  The  New  Yorkers  spread  their  country  resi- 
dences over  Staten  Island,  along  the  shores  of  the  Sound, 
and  half-way  up  the  Hudson,  beautifying  a  great  extent  of 
territory,  while  the  Bostonians,  by  crowding  theirs  together, 
have  produced  a  smaller,  but  nearly  perfect  region  of  land- 
scape gardening ;  for,  where  so  much  is  beautiful,  the  occa- 
sional anomalies  and  grotesqueries  of  taste  fail  to  ofiend  you. 

The  general  impression  which  Boston  and  its  environs 
made  upon  my  friends  was  that  of  substantial  prosperity 
and  comfort.  They  also  noticed  its  prim,  proper  English 
air,  so  strongly  contrasted  with  the  semi-Parisian  vivacity 
of  New  York.  Boston,  in  fact,  prides  itself  on  its  Deport- 
ment :  it  is  nothing  if  not  proper.  All  the  ridicule  which 
other  cities  are  in  the  habit  of  heaping  upon  it  does  not 
seem  to  disturb  its  equanimity  in  the  least.  I  do  not  remem- 
mer  to  have  seen  the  Boston  papers  greatly  enraged  by  any 
hostile  assertion,  except  that  the  harbor  sometimes  freezes 
over :  th€7i,  they  cry  out  in  indignant  wrath. 

I  must  say,  I  rather  admire  this  stolid  self-reliance  and 
Novanglican  assumption — if  for  nothing  else,  at  least  because 
it  shows  a  thicker  cuticle  than  we  excitable  New-Yorkers 
possess,  whose  nerves  are  exposed  to  the  atmosphere,  or 


<^40  AT    HOME    AXD    ABROAD. 

that  of  the  morbidly  sensitive  Philadelphians,  who  ransack 
the  Union  for  derogatory  remarks,  and  exalt  one  horn 
while  depressing  the  other  to  gore  all  who  doubt  their 
greatness.  The  genuine  Bostonian  is  the  most  complacent 
of  mortals.  With  his  clean  shirt  on,  and  his  umbrella  under 
his  arm,  he  sits  upon  his  pedestal  of  Quincy  granite,  and 
reads  his  mild,  unexceptionable  newspaper.  He  believes  in 
Judge  Story  and  Daniel  Webster,  reads  the  poems  of  Han- 
nah Gould  and  George  Lunt,  votes  for  Bell  and  Everett, 
and  hopes  that  he  will  go  to  Paris  when  he  dies. 

With  me,  however,  who  have  been  knocked  about  the 
woi'ld  too  much  to  have  any  special  veneration  for  any  par- 
ticular class  of  men,  excessiA^e  propriety  is  always  a  suspi- 
cious circumstance.  I  would  sooner  trust  the  ragged  Chris- 
tian who  sits  in  the  hindmost  pew,  than  the  smoothly-shaven 
deacon  who  leads  the  hymn.  I  have  sometimes  wondered 
whether  all  the  Bostonians  postpone  their  Parisian  delights 
until  after  death.  Is  there  nothing  volcanic  under  this  cold 
lava?  No  indulgence  in  improprieties,  all  the  more  attrac- 
tive, because  secret  ?  My  friend  related  to  me  this  morn- 
ing an  experience  which  he  had  innocently  made.  "What 
a  curious  city  this  is !"  he  exclaimed  ;  "  last  night,  while  I 
Avas  walking  out  alone,  it  occurred  to  me  that  a  glass  of 
beer  would  be  a  good  thing  for  my  thirst.  So  I  looked 
here,  and  looked  there,  going  through  many  streets,  but 
every  liouse  was  closed  :  only  the  churches  were  open.  At 
last  I  stopped  a  man  in  the  street,  and  said  to  him,  in  my 
imperfect  English  :  '  Is  it  possible  that  in  this  great  city  I 
cannot  get  one  small  glass  of  beer?'  'Hush!'  said  the  man, 
'  come  with  me  and  I'll  sliow  you.'     So  we  went  through 


TRAVELS    AT   HOME.  341 

many  streets,  until  he  stopped  at  a  little  dark  door,  and  said 
'  go  up.'  Then  he  went  away.  I  went  up  one  flight  of 
stairs :  it  was  dark.  Then  I  went  up  another  flight,  and 
saw  a  lighted  glass  door  with  the  word  '  Serenity  '  upon 
it.  Inside  were  many  men,  drinking  beer.  I  also  drank  a 
glass,  but  I  was  obliged  to  pay  double  price  for  it,  and  the 
beer  was  very  bad." 

I  laughed  heartily  at  my  friend's  adventure,  the  explana- 
tion of  which  led  me  into  a  statement  of  the  various  phases 
of  the  Temperance  reform.  In  Germany,  where  a  Liquor 
Law  would  be  not  only  an  impossibility,  but  an  incredibility, 
such  clandestine  dodges  are  unknown,  and  I  am  afraid  my 
friend's  respect  for  the  administration  of  the  law^s  in  this 
country  was  somewhat  lessened. 


3. — The  Sago  Vaixet. 

There  are  two  routes  of  travel  from  Boston  to  the 
"White  Mountains — the  eastern,  by  way  of  Lake  Winnipi- 
seogee  and  the  Saco  Valley,  and  the  western,  up  the  Con- 
necticut River  to  Littleton,  and  thence  up  the  valley  of  the 
Ammonoosuc.  The  former,  which  we  chose,  is  again  sub- 
divided into  two  branches — one,  via  Manchester  and  Con- 
cord to  Wier's,  on  Lake  Winnipiseogee,  and  thence  by 
Centre  Harbor  to  Conway,  and  the  other,  via  Lawrence, 
Dover,  and  the  Cocheco  Railroad  to  Alton  Bay,  at  the 
lower  extremity  of  the  lake.  We  preferred  the  latter  of 
these  branches,  as  affording  us   the   greater  quantity  of 


342  AT    HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

lake  travel :  those  who  prefer  haste  to  scenery  take  the 
former. 

I  noticed  one  change  for  the  better  on  the  Boston  and 
Maine  road — that  of  the  introduction  of  a  comfortable 
smoking-car.  I  think  I  should  appreciate  this  if  I  were  not 
a  consumer  of  the  delectable  Aveed :  but  as  I  know  from 
experience  how  the  dreary  time  we  spend  in  railroad-cars  is 
beguiled  by  that 

"  Kind  nymph  to  Bacchus  bom 
By  Morpheus'  daughter,  she  that  seems 
Gifted  upon  her  natal  morn 
By  him  with  fire,  by  her  with  dreams," 

I  think  the  Company  has  done  a  commendable  thing.  Any- 
thing that  contributes  to  the  comfort  of  the  public  (and  the 
public  will  smoke,  oh  ye  Reformers !)  deserves  to  be  praised, 
and  I  therefore  praise  it.  There  is  one  thing  more  needed 
— a  Spitting,  or  rather,  Chewing  Car.  I  fancy  that  most 
ladies,  delicate  as  their  nerves  may  be,  would  rather  sit  in 
a  smoky  atmosphere  than  have  their  dresses  dabbled  in  the 
liquid  filth  which  the  Chewer  is  at  liberty  to  disgorge  every- 
where. In  Boston  you  are  fined  two  dollars  for  smoking 
in  the  streets  (or  would  be  if  the  law  were  enforced),  but 
you  may  spit  to  your  heart's  content.  The  genuine  smoker 
does  not  spit :  he  offers  only  the  rarest  and  most  fragrant 
incense  to  his  god ;  and  why  his  coarser  brother  should  be 
tolerated  and  he  proscribed,  is  what  I  cannot  understand. 

A  smart  shower  on  Monday  night  had  laid  the  dust :  the 
air  was  like  fluid  diamond,  and  the  forests  sparkled  and 
gleamed  as  if  newly  varnished.     We  flew  past  Lawrence, 


TRAVELS    AT    HOME.  343 

noticed  the  melancholy  site  of  the  Pemberton  Mills,  admired 
the  cerulean  blue  of  the  Merrimack  at  Haverhill,  found  the 
further  scenery  tame,  and  in  the  course  of  time  reached 
Dover. 

The  Cocheco  Road  passes  through  a  wild,  sterile,  and  alto- 
gether uninviting  region,  but  it  is  only  twenty-eight  miles 
long,  and  in  a  little  over  an  hour  we  embarked  on  the 
steamer  Dover  at  the  lower  extremity  of  Lake  Winnipi- 
seogee.  Alton  Bay  is  a  long,  narrow  inlet  between  wooded 
hills.  The  dark-blue  waves  danced  under  a  strong  northern 
breeze,  but  our  staunch  little  steamer  swiftly  parted  them 
and  brought  us  into  the  open  water,  whence  we  saw  far  to 
the  noi'th,  the  blue  outposts  of  the  \^niite  Hills.  The 
shores  of  the  Lake  are  rough  and  wild,  but  rendered  very 
picturesque  by  the  multitude  of  coves,  inlets,  and  islands. 
Winnipiseogee  is  an  almost  exact  reproduction  of  some  of 
the  Scandinavian  Lakes — the  Tindso,  in  Tellemark,  or  the 
Malar,  in  Sweden,  for  instance.  Its  atmosphere  is  quite  as 
northern,  notwithstanding  it  lies  fifteen  degrees  further 
south.  On  other  days  it  may  present  warmer  tints  and 
softer  outlines,  but  with  such  a  keen,  bracing  wind,  under 
a  July  sun,  my  experiences  three  summers  ago  came  vividly 
to  my  mind,  and  I  almost  fancied  myself  again  in  Norway. 
We  did  not  see  the  whole  of  the  Lake,  owing  to  a  slight 
misunderstanding  of  mine,  which,  after  all,  turned  out  for 
the  best.  This  route  again,  I  had  discovered,  is  subdi- 
vided ;  there  being  rival  stage-lines  from  Wolfborough  and 
Centre  Harbor  to  Conway.  Supposing  Wolfborough  to 
be  at  the  north-eastern  corner  of  the  lake,  instead  of  the 
south-eastern,  as  it  really  is,  and  learning  that  the  stages 


344  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

thence  reached  Conway  in  advance  of  these  from  Centre 
Harbor,  I  left  the  boat  at  the  former  place,  and  therefore 
missed  seeing  as  I  had  intended,  the  upper  portion  of  the 
lake.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  gained  the  pleasantest 
stage  route  and  the  best  approach  to  the  mountains,  so 
that,  on  the  whole,  the  balance  was  rather  in  our  favor. 

After  climbing  the  hiU  before  reaching  Ossipee,  we  had 
our  last  and  loveliest  view  of  Winnipiseogee,  lying  in 
many  a  strip  of  dim  silver  among  the  blue  hills.  A  mile 
further,  on  the  ridge  of  the  Tuftonborough  Hills,  a  noble 
panorama  awaited  us.  In  front— great  tracts  of  forest, 
broken  in  upon  here  and  there  by  roughly-cleared  farms — 
lay  the  valley  of  the  Saco,  while  in  the  north-west  rose  the 
White  Mountains,  showing  each  separate  peak  distinctly  in 
the  clear  air.  Chocorua,  with  his  pyramid  of  rock,  on  the 
right,  and  peaked  Kearsarge  on  the  left,  stood  in  advance, 
like  sentinels  at  the  entrance  of  the  deep,  dim  valley,  whose 
walls  of  increasing  elevation  seemed  buttresses,  resting 
against  the  shoulders  of  Mount  Washington,  the  central 
dome-shaped  monarch  of  the  group.  Light  clouds  were 
hovering  in  the  sky,  but  above  the  mountains,  and  belts  of 
cold  shadow  across  the  middle  distance  heightened  the 
sunny  warmth  of  the  foreground. 

Thenceforwai-d,  we  overlooked  the  stony  soil  and  the 
shabby  farms.  We  had  entered  artist-land,  and  even  when 
the  forests  narrowed  our  prospect,  we  only  saw  the  pictu- 
resque in  mossy  rocks  and  twisted  trees.  As  we  approached 
the  Saco,  after  passing  Six-Mile  Pond,  much  of  the  scenery 
consisted  of  remembrances  of  New  York  studios.  Every 
foreground  was  made  up  of  sketches  by  Shattuck,  Cole- 


TEAVELS   AT  HOME.  345 

man,  and  the  younger  painters :  every  background  was 
a  complete  picture  by  Kensett.  I  watched  the  shifting 
quadruple  peaks  of  Chocorua  with  a  peculiar  personal 
interest.  Gradually  they  assumed  the  familiar  position  : 
the  crest  of  sheer  i-ock  gleamed  with  a  faint  red  in  the  sun 
that  lay  so  warm  upon  the  hills — yes,  there  is  my  Choco- 
rua! And  really,  at  this  distance,  he  towers  not  more 
grandly  in  the  afternoon  light  than  on  those  four  feet  of 
canvass,  in  my  room  at  home,  "where  it  is  always  afternoon." 

I  do  not  think  any  approach  to  the  White  Mountains 
can  be  more  beautiful  than  that  of  the  Saco  Valley.  You 
are  carried  so  gently  and  with  such  sweetly  prolonged  sur- 
prises, into  their  heart, — touched  first,  as  it  were,  with 
their  outstretched  fingers,  held  awhile  in  their  arms,  and 
finally  taken  to  their  bosom.  Their  beauty  wins  before 
their  sublimity  awes  you.  On  such  an  evening,  with  the 
depth  of  color  increasing  as  the  light  fades,  bars  of  alter- 
nate gold  and  violet  flung  from  summits  and  through 
lateral  gorges  across  the  valley,  and  blue  glimpses  of  stream 
or  lake  interrupting  the  rich,  uniform  green,  every  turn 
of  the  road  gives  you  a  new  delight,  every  minute  of  the 
fleeting  time  is  more  precious  than  the  last. 

Now,  wherein  is  this  scenery  inferior  to  that  of  the 
Scotch  Highlands,  or  the  Lower  Alps,  or  the  Jura  ?  In 
no  respect,  to  my  eyes,  but  rather  finer  in  its  forms  and 
combinations.  To  be  sure,  it  lacks  the  magic  of  old 
associations ;  but  this — if  it  be  a  defect — is  one  which  is 
soon  forgotten.  The  principal  difterence  is  one  which 
applies  to  almost  all  American  scenery.  Virgin  nature  has 
a  complete  charm  of  its  own :  so  has  nature  under  subjeo- 

15* 


346  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

tion,  cultivated,  enriched,  finished  as  a  dwelling-place  for 
man :  but  that  transition  state,  which  is  neither  one  thing 
nor  the  other,  gives  an  unsatisfactory  impression  in  the 
midst  of  our  highest  enjoyment.  Imagine  the  intervales 
of  the  Saco  under  thorough  culture,  the  grassfields  thick 
and  smooth,  the  grain  heavy,  not  a  stump  to  be  seen,  the 
trees  developed  in  their  proper  forms,  fair  pastures  on  the 
hillsides,  shepherds'  cottages  high  up  on  the  mountains, 
thrifty  villages,  farm-houses  and  summer  villas  scattered 
over  the  landscape,  and  what  is  left  for  the  eye  to  crave  ? 
But  take  it  now,  with  its  frequent  unsightly  clearings,  its 
fields  dotted  with  ugly  stumps,  and  the  many  single  trees 
which,  growing  up  sj)indly  in  the  midst  of  others,  are  now 
left  standing  alone,  robbed  of  their  characteristic  forms, 
and  you  will  readily  see  that  here  are  discordant  elements 
in  the  landscape.  It  is  not  always  the  absolute  superiority 
of  Nature  which  we  recognize  ;  we  are  influenced  by  these 
indirect  impressions,  and  they  are  not  to  be  reasoned  away. 

Yet,  during  the  last  stage  of  our  ride  some  perfect 
])ictures  were'  presented  to  us.  Mote  Mountain,  beyond 
the  Saco,  lifted  a  huge  mass  of  blue  shadow  into  the  sky ; 
Kearsarge  was  tipped  with  yellow  light,  and,  in  front, 
high  over  the  valley,  Mount  Washington  shone  in  splendid 
purple.  Occasional  gaps  through  the  trees  gave  us  limited 
views,  where  every  feature  was  fair  and  harmonious.  One 
farm  in  particular,  with  its  white  house,  high  on  a  ledge  of 
Mote  Mountain,  where  the  sunset  still  lingered,  came  again 
and  again  to  siglit,  thrown  so  far  off  by  the  brown  sha- 
dows aroimd  us  that  it  seemed  a  fairy  picture  in  the  air. 

At  dusk  we  reached  North  Conway,  and  found  lodgings 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  347 

at  the  Kearsarge  House — a  tall  sliaky  building,  crammed 
with  visitors.  We  were  lucky,  in  fact,  in  finding  quarters 
at  all.  Hundreds  are  turned  away  during  the  season. 
But  as  the  landlord  says,  when  people  complain  of  his 
neglecting  to  enlarge  his  bounds:  "I  have  a  right  to 
complain  that  you  don't  patronize  me  for  eight  months  of 
the  year."  Splendor,  so  temporary  in  its  uses,  will  not 
pay.  We  found  everything  clean  and  convenient,  and 
were  well  satisfied. 


When  I  awoke  this  morning  the  rain  was  beating  an 
accompaniment  to  my  dreams  upon  the  balcony  roof, 
the  wind  was  roaring  in  the  woods,  and  low  masses  of 
cloud  were  driving  over  the  gateway  of  The  Notch.  It 
was  a  genuine  moimtain  storm  which  had  come  upon  us, 
and  thi-eatened  to  confine  us  within  doors  during  the  day 
— a  prospect  whereat  I  heartily  rejoiced.  If  there  is  any- 
thing which  fills  me  with  a  comfortable  feeling  of  happi- 
ness— which  makes  me  at  peace  with  all  mankind,  and  bids 
me  see  only  the  bright  side  of  life,  it  is  a  rain-storm  among 
the  mountains.  It  has  become  a  conventionalism  to  speak 
of  the  dreariness  of  a  rainy  day  in  the  country  :  for  my 
part,  I  know  nothing  more  beautiful,  except  sunshine,  and 
that  is  generally  less  cheerful.  While  a  rain  is  gathering — 
while  the  atmosphere  is  heavy,  portentous,  congested  (to 
borrow  a  medical  word,  which  expresses  the  feeling  better 
than  any  other),  I  am  plunged  into  the  lowest  depth  of 
despair,  but  I  begin  to  mount,  with  the  first  dro}) ;  and 
when  the  trees  bend,  and   turn   the  under  side  of  their 


348  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

leaves  to  the  gale,  and  the  hills  are  blotted  out  with  rain, 
and  the  roof  becomes  a  i*esonant  sounding-board,  whereon 
"Xes  Gouttes  d''Eau'''  is  played  with  a  delicate  grace, 
beyond  the  reach  of  Liszt  or  Chopin — then,  I  revel  in  an 
Olympian  buoyancy  of  spu-its,  and  the  lost  sun  of  the  outer 
rises  on  my  inner  world. 

So  I  sat  down  to  write,  feeling  sure  that  a  whole  day  of 
quiet  comfort  was  before  me ;  but  scarcely  had  I  written 
six  pages  before  the  clouds  broke,  the  rain  ceased,  and  the 
sun  began  to  give  glimpses  of  his  face.  The  mountains 
came  out  bright  and  green,  the  bears  rose,  shook  off  their 
wet,  and  stood  on  their  hind  legs ;  the  band  played  adieux 
to  departing  stages,  and  all  the  distractions  of  good  wea- 
ther thrust  themselves  between  brain  and  paper.  It  was 
no  use  to  try:  I  must  be  up  and  away.  The  air  called, 
the  sun  called ;  the  trees,  waterfalls,  and  distant  blue 
peaks  sent  their  voices  up  to  my  window.  Conscience 
(literaiy,  only)  was  silenced ;  duty  was  a  bore :  "  I  did 
not  come  to  write,"  I  said  to  myself,  and  out  we  went 
into  the  woods. 

"  As  sunbeams  stream  through  liberal  space, 
And  nothing  jostle  or  displace, 
So  waved  the  pine-tree  through  my  thought, 
And  fanned  the  dreams  it  never  brought." 

But  now,  while  the  stars  are  sparkling  over  the  hills,  and 
the  dancers  are  dancing  in  tune  in  the  great  saloon,  to  the 
sound  of  the  hom  and  bassoon,  and  the  crowd  of  guests 
are  "  going  on ''  precisely  as  if  there  were  no  mountains 
about  them,  and  no  Mount  Washington  to  be  ascended  on 


TRAVELS    AT    HOME.  349 

the  morrow,  let  me  pick  up  the  thread  dropped  this  morn- 
ing, and  resume  our  travels. 

The  morning,  at  North  Conway,  was  so  wonderfully 
clear,  that  I  immediately  predicted  a  storm.  Mount  Wash- 
ington seemed  near  at  hand  ;  even  the  bridle  path  on  the 
southern  side  was  visible.  The  eclipse  came  off,  according 
to  contract,  but  so  brilliant  was  the  day  that  I  should  not 
have  noticed  it  but  for  the  peculiar  shadows  cast  by  the 
trees.  We  resisted  the  temptation  to  climb  Kearsarge, 
having  too  much  before  us,  to  exhaust  each  locality.  So 
much  the  better :  we  can  come  back  again,  and  still  have 
something  in  store.  The  stage  for  Crawford's  went  off, 
packed  with  tourists,  and,  to  our  cost,  we  engaged  a  special 
team  to  take  us  thither  in  the  afternoon.  The  price 
demanded,  and  of  course  paid  (for  there  was  no  resource), 
was  eighteen  dollars  for  an  open  two-horse  wagon,  to  con- 
vey us  twenty-five  miles.  This  is  rather  ahead  of  Illinois, 
and  about  equal  to  California.  But  there  was  some  sense 
in  the  landlord's  remark  :  "  I  have  to  keep  fifty  horses  all 
winter  at  a  heavy  expense,  in  order  to  supply  travellers  for 
three  or  four  months  in  the  summer,  and  they  must  pay  for 
it."  Certainly,  a  lumbering  Concord  coach,  with  nine 
inside,  is  no  place  whence  to  behold  White  Mountain 
scenery,  and  we  were  speedily  reconciled  to  the  double 
fore. 

The  road  follows  the  valley  of  the  Saco,  rising  from 
North  Conway,  which  is  six  hundred  feet  to  the  source  of 
the  river,  at  Crawford's,  two  thousand  feet  above  the  sea- 
level.  At  first,  the  valley  is  broad,  and  the  farms  frequent. 
After  passing  Bartlett's  Corner,  where  Ellis  River  comes 


350  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

down  from  the  rigbt,  and  a  stage  road  branches  off  to 
Pinkham  Notch  and  the  Glen  House,  we  drove  for  eight 
or  ten  miles  in  a  western  direction,  between  still  loftier 
mountains.  Here  the  soil  appeared  kinder,  and  the  rough 
shanties,  whence  issued,  at  our  approach,  little  girls  with 
birchen  boxes  of  raspberries,  ceased.  "  If  the  road  were 
macadamized,"  said  my  friend,  "  and  a  few  cataracts  poured 
down  the  ledge,  it  would  be  very  much  like  Guldbrands- 
dal,  in  Norway."  New-Hampshire,  in  fact,  is  Norway, 
with  a  somewhat  richer  vegetation. 

At  the  Upper  Bartlett  House  we  were  gratified  with  the 
sight  of  some  trout,  in  a  spring.  We  had  tried,  in  vain, 
to  procure  trout  at  the  hotels.  At  breakfast  there  were 
some  on  the  table,  but  fried  in  such  a  manner  that  their 
peculiar  flavor  was  unrecognizable.  What  more  easy  than 
artificial  trout-breeding  in  these  clear  mountain  streams  ? 
And  what  more  remunerative  than  trout  (charged  extra  in 
the  bill)  to  the  keepers  of  these  mountain  hotels  ? 

Turning  North  again,  we  took  a  last  view  of  Kearsarge, 
down  the  glorious  valley,  and  pushed  forward  into  wilder 
regions.  The  highest  peaks  on  either  hand  reached  a 
height  of  five  thousand  feet,  the  bed  of  the  valley  became 
contracted,  and  the  Old  Crawford  House,  now  closed, 
seemed  to  be  the  last  outpost  of  civilization  in  this  direc- 
tion. We  were  never  weary  of  noting  the  bold,  beautiful 
sweep  of  the  mountain  sides,  clothed  to  their  very  summits 
with  as  thick  and  green  a  foliage  as  the  tropical  hills  of 
Mexico.  I  had  anticipated  landscapes  of  a  wilder  and 
rougher  cast.  Here,  however,  for  several  miles,  we  drove 
tlirough  forests  which  arched  above  the  road,  and  shut  out 


TEAVELS   AT   HOME.  351 

all  view — not  only  Avoods  of  fir,  oak,  and  beech,  but  the 
beautiful  birch,  with  its  slender  milk-white  stem,  while  the 
ground  is  covered  with  giant  ferns,  as  large  and  as  beau- 
tiful as  the  pandanus  and  the  sago-palm  of  the  Pacific 
isles.  The  size  and  beauty  of  the  birches  caused  us  for  a 
time  to  forget  the  mountains  altogether.  Straight,  and 
white  as  ivory,  they  shone  through  the  gloom  of  the  ever- 
greens, and  formed  a  fairy  colonnade  far  before  us. 

After  twice  crossing  the  infant  Saco,  the  road  turned  a 
little  to  the  left,  and  we  found  ourselves  between  Mount 
Webster  and  the  Willey  Mountain,  elevations  of  equal 
height,  whose  bases  touch  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and 
whose  sides  rise  at  an  average  angle  of  45 '^.  The  trees 
which  cling  to  them  are  scant  and  dwarfish,  and  torn  away 
in  long  strips  by  slides  which  start  from  their  very  bi'ows. 
They  appear  to  be  almost  inaccessible,  but  may  be  climbed 
by  a  man  of  strong  nerve  and  solid  muscle.  The  crest  of 
Mount  Webster,  a  long  wall  of  perpendicular  rock,  bright- 
ened by  the  sinking  sun,  towered  over  us,  midway  to  the 
zenith.  The  driver,  of  course,  pointed  out  the  traces  of 
the  fatal  slide  of  18"26,  on  Willey  Mountain,  and  presently 
the  house  came  in  sight.  It  it  now  but  an  appendage  to  a 
larger  building  which  has  been  inhabited  (a  sort  of  hotel,  I 
believe)  for  the  past  year  or  two.  The  occupants,  pro- 
bably, reckon  that  two  slides  will  hardly  be  likely  to  occur 
in  the  same  place. 

Here  commences  The  Notch,  which  is  properly  no  notch, 
but  a  very  deep,  wild  valley,  or  trough,  formed  by  the 
bases  of  the  two  mountains  before  mentioned.  At  its 
head,  overhanging  it  in  an  inmiense  precipice  of  gray  rock, 


352  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

and  seeming  to  block  all  egress,  is  Mount  Willard,  a  peak 
more  remarkable  from  its  abruptness  and  its  isolation,  than 
its  actual  height.  For  two  miles  we  drove  forward  through 
the  woods,  climbing  the  ascending  gorge.  The  topmost 
crags  of  Mount  Webster  were  no  longer  burnished  with 
sunset ;  the  air  around  us  grew  dark  and  cool,  and  the 
Saco  became  a  rill  which  I  could  almost  collect  in  a  bucket. 
A  spruce  rider,  prancing  through  the  woods  on  a  hand- 
some black  horse,  assured  us  that  Crawford's  was  close  at 
hand,  and  obligingly  galloped  ahead  to  engage  rooms  for 
us.  A  few  very  steep  pulls  brought  us  to  a  cleft  between 
immense  masses  of  dark  rock,  leaving  a  space  of  little  more 
than  twenty  feet  for  the  road  and  stream.  Here,  turning 
back,  we  saw  The  Notch,  looming  huge  and  awful  through 
the  blue  vapors  of  twilight — a  grand,  a  truly  Alpine  land- 
scape. 

A  hundred  yards  further,  and  we  emerged  from  the 
Gate  of  the  Notch,  as  it  is  called,  upon  a  little  plateau,  two 
thousand  feet  above  the  sea.  A  black  pond  beside  us,  was 
the  fountain  of  the  Saco.  Lights  glimmered  ahead,  the 
sound  of  music  saluted  us,  and  the  long  front  of  the  Craw- 
ford House  rose  like  a  palace  in  the  wilderness.  From  the 
balcony  pealed  the  band — with  a  good-will,  if  not  with 
great  artistic  talent ;  a  hundred  well-dressed  gentlemen  and 
ladies  promenaded  along  the  veranda;  gas-lights  flared 
through  the  broad  entrance — in  short,  all  the  evidences 
of  a  first-class  hotel,  "  with  the  latest  improvements," 
saluted  our  delighted  eyes.  Our  bedrooms  were  actually 
lighted  with  gas — and  tliere  were  bell-pulls — and  some- 
body came  when  you  pulled — and  what  you  ordered  was 


TBAVELS   AT   HOME.  353 

brought  to  you !  Nature  is  good,  I  thought,  but  Nature 
in  combination  with  the  latest  improvements  is  best  of  all. 
In  the  words  of  a  New  England  poet,  whose  name  I  am 
sorry  not  to  know : 

"  Give  to  Natur'  Natur's  doo, 
But  give  to  Art,  more  too." 

In  the  evening  the  guests  gathered  in  the  grand  saloon, 
about  half  the  size  of  the  Great  Eastern's  deck,  and  there 
were  performances  on  the  piano,  heard  in  becoming  silence, 
and  the  inevitable  hop.  In  this  I  did  not  join,  preferring 
not  to  do  a  thing  at  all  rather  than  to  do  it  badly,  but  the 
rhythm  of  the  dancers'  feet  reached  me  in  bed,  through  all  the 
timbers  of  the  house.  With  the  exception  of  the  hop,  which 
occasioned  a  temporary  unbending  ceremony,  the  company 
appeared  to  me  rather  grave  and  formal.  Those  conven- 
tionalities from  which  we  so  gladly  escape,  penetrate  even 
here.  Immense  trunks  are  unshipped  from  the  stages,  costly 
dresses  appear  in  the  evening,  the  ladies  criticise  each  other 
— in  short,  the  utmost  resistance  is  offered  to  the  levelling 
influence  of  the  mountain  air.  It  is  but  a  shifting  of  location 
— not  of  nature.  I  was  impressed  with  a  pleasant  sense  of 
freedom  in  the  evening  when  the  stage  from  Conway  drove 
up,  with  a  company  of  ladies  packed  on  the  very  top,  and  sing- 
ing in  chorus,  with  a  hearty  scorn  of  all  artificial  proprieties. 
To  me,  the  hesitation  to  break  through  rule  occasionally, 
implies  a  doubt  of  one's  own  breeding.  Those  whose 
behavior  is  refined,  from  the  natural  suggestions  of  a  refined 
nature,  are  never  troubled  by  such  misgivings,  and  show 
their  true  gentleness  most  when  most  free  and  unrestraiuetl. 


\a^-'. 


354  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

One  may  ride  to  the  top  of  Mount  Willai'd  in  an  omni- 
bus, but  it  is  not  a  severe  walk,  even  for  ladies.  In  spite 
of  the  dead,  sultry  heat  of  the  air,  we  found  refreshment  in 
that  steep,  unvarying  line  of  shade,  with  its  mossy  banks, 
starred  with  a  delicate  oxalis,  the  pigmy  cornus,  ground- 
pine,  club  moss,  and  harebells.  Nothing  was  to  be  seen, 
so  thick  was  the  forest,  until  we  reached  the  top  of  the 
mountain,  about  3,500  feet  above  the  sea.  Here,  after  two 
or  three  hundred  yards  of  comparative  level,  the  wood 
suddenly  opened,  and  we  found  ourselves  standing  on  the 
very  pinnacle  of  the  great  cliff  which  we  saw  last  night, 
blocking  up  The  Notch. 

The  effect  was  magical.  The  sky  had  in  the  meantime 
partially  cleared,  and  patches  of  sunny  gold  lay  upon  the 
dark  mountains.  Under  our  feet  yawned  the  tremendous 
gulf  of  The  Notch,  roofed  with  belts  of  cloud,  wl)ich 
floated  across  from  summit  to  summit  nearly  at  our  level ; 
so  that  we  stood,  as  in  the  organ  loft  of  some  grand  cathe- 
dral, looking  down  into  its  dim  nave.  At  the  further  end, 
over  the  fading  lines  of  some  nameless  mountains,  stood 
Chocorua,  purple  with  distance,  terminating  the  majestic 
vista.  It  was  a  picture  which  the  eye  could  take  in  at  one 
glance :  no  landscape  could  be  more  simple  or  more  sub- 
lime. Tlie  noise  of  a  cataract  to  our  right,  high  up  on 
Mount  Willey,  filled  the  air  with  a  far,  sweet,  fluctuating 
murmur,  but  all  round  us  the  woods  were  still,  the  hare- 
bells bloomed,  and  the  sunshine  lay  warm  upon  the 
granite. 

I  had  never  heard  this  view  particularly  celebrated,  and 
was  therefoi'e  the  more  impressed  by  its  wonderful  beauty. 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  355 

As  a  simple  picture  of  a  mountain-pass,  seen  from  above, 
it  cannot  be  surpassed  in  Switzerland.  Something  like  it  I 
Lave  seen  in  the  Taurus,  otherwise  I  can  recall  no  view  with 
which  to  compare  it.  A  portion  of  the  effect,  of  course,  de- 
pends on  the  illumination,  but  no  traveller  wlio  sees  it  on 
a  day  of  mingled  cloud  and  sunshine  will  be  disappointed. 


4. — ^Thb  Ascent  of  Mount  Washington. 

"  You  breakfast  at  seven,  start  at  eight,  and  ride  up  in 
four  hours,"  said  Mr.  Gibb.  Everything  depended  on  the 
weather.  There  had  been  two  glorious  days  for  the  ascent, 
the  beginning  of  the  week,  and  a  third  was  almost  too  much 
to  expect.  At  seven,  the  mountains  in  front  were  covered 
with  heavy  layers  of  cloud,  and  countenances  fell.  I  went 
to  the  back  of  the  house,  and,  seeing  a  low,  arched  gap  of 
blue  sky  in  the  west,  denoting  a  wind  from  that  quarter, 
confidently  predicted  a  fine  day.  Ladies  prepared  for  the 
ascent  by  taking  off  hoops,  putting  on  woollen  jackets  and 
old  straw  hats  (hired  of  the  porter),  and  gentlemen  by 
adopting  a  rough,  serviceable  rig,  leasing,  if  they  did  not 
already  possess  one. 

Eight  o'clock  came,  but  the  stages  had  to  leave  first,  each 
accompanied  by  a  pathetic  farewell  from  the  band  in  the 
balcony.  For  half  an  hour  I  had  been  striding  about  in  a 
woollen  wamms^  uncomfortably  warm,  while  the  other  gen- 
tlemen luxuriated  in  horsemen's  boots  :  the  ladies  kept  their 
collapsed  skirts  out  of  sight  until  the  last  moment.     Finally, 


356  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

Mr.  Gibb,  with  a  list  in  his  hand,  took  liis  place,  like  a  mas- 
ter of  the  ring,  in  the  midst  of  a  whirlpool  of  rough-looking 
horses,  and  the  travellers  mounted,  as  their  names  were 
called,  the  beasts  which  he  assigned  to  them.  A  little  con- 
fusion ensued,  slight  shrieks  were  heard,  saddles  were  ad- 
justed, girths  looked  after,  stirrup-leathers  regulated,  and 
then,  falling  into  a  promiscuous  line,  we  defiled  into  the 
bridle-path,  while  the  band  played  "  Away  to  the  mountain 
brow." 

"We  might  have  been  a  picturesque,  but  we  were  not  a 
beautiful  company.  The  ladies  resembled  gipsies  on  the 
march,  wearing  the  clothes  they  had  picked  up  on  the  way  : 
the  gentlemen  might  have  been  political  refugees,  just 
arrived  from  Europe,  and  not  yet  received  by  the  Com- 
mon Council  of  New  York.  The  horses  were  intended  by 
nature  for  use  rather  than  ornament,  and  our  two  guides,  in 
fact,  were  the  only  figures  that  were  handsome,  as  well  as 
vastly  useful.  Accustomed  to  walk  up  and  down  Mount 
Washington  (nine  miles  from  Crawford'sto  the  summit)  three 
or  four  times  a  week,  they  had  the  true  Zouave  development 
of  muscle.  Tall,  strong,  tireless,  cheerful,  kind-hearted  fel- 
lows, I  looked  on  them  with  pride,  and  wished  that  more 
Americans  were  like  them  in  the  possession  of  such  manly 
qualities.  One  of  the  ladies  of  my  party  had  never  before 
mounted  a  horse,  and  could  never  have  gotten  through  her 
first  lesson  in  so  I'ough  a  school  without  their  careful  tutor- 
ship. 

Striking  into  the  woods,  we  began  immediately  to  ascend, 
gently  at  first,  until  we  had  scaled  the  lower  slielf  of  Mount 
Clinton,  when  the  ascent  became  more  steep  and  toilsome. 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  357 

The  road  has  been  judiciously  laid  out,  and  made  practica- 
ble with  considerable  labor.  The  marshy  places  are  cordu- 
royed Avith  small  logs,  and  the  gullies  bridged  in  the  same 
manner,  so  that  you  pass  easily  and  securely.  Indeed, 
nearly  half  the  distance  to  the  summit  of  Mount  Clinton — 
three  miles — has  been  paved  in  this  manner.  The  rains 
have  gradually  worn  the  path  deeper,  and  you  frequently 
ride  between  high,  mossy  banks,  bright  with  flowers.  The 
oak,  birch,  maple,  and  other  deciduous  trees  become  less 
frequent  as  you  ascend,  until  the  forest  consists  entirely  of 
fir.  The  lower  boughs  have  rotted  and  dropped  off,  and  the 
upper  ones  form  a  dark  roof  above  your  head,  while  all  the 
ground  is  covered  with  a  thick  growth  of  immense  ferns. 
A  young  tropical  wood  seems  to  be  springing  up  under  the 
shadow  of  an  Arctic  forest.  Perhaps  this  singular  contrast 
of  forms  (for  the  fern  is  Nature's  first  attempt  at  making  a 
palm-tree)  explains  the  charm  of  this  forest,  wherein  there 
is  no  beauty  in  the  forms  of  the  trees. 

We  rode  on  steadily — delayed  sometimes  by  the  guide's 
being  obliged  to  mend  his  corduroys — ^for  three  miles,  when 
the  wood,  which  had  been  gradually  becoming  more  ragged 
and  stunted,  came  rather  suddenly  to  an  end,  and  we  found 
ourselves  on  the  summit  of  Mount  Clinton,  4,200  feet  above 
the  sea.  Looking  to  the  northward,  we  saw  before  us  the 
bald,  rounded  top  of  Mount  Pleasant,  about  five  hundred 
feet  higher,  while  beyond,  a  gray  cloud-rack,  scudding 
rapidly  from  Avest  to  east,  completely  hid  from  view  the 
dome  of  Mount  Washington. 

To  make  our  position  clear,  I  must  give  a  little  geogra- 
phy.    Mount  Washington  is  the  culmination  of  a  connected 


358  AT    HOME   AND   ABEOAD. 

series  of  peaks,  which  have  a  general  direction  of  N.  W. 
and  S.  E.  Mount  "Webster,  which  forms  one  side  of  The 
Notch,  is  the  commencement  of  this  series,  as  you  ascend 
the  Saco  Yalley.  Then  follow  Mounts  Jackson,  Clinton 
(which  we  have  just  surmounted).  Pleasant,  Franklin,  Mon- 
roe, and  finally  Washington,  summit  rising  above  summit 
in  Titanic  steps,  from  4,000  until  the  chieftain  attains  the 
crowning  height  of  6,285  feet.  Beyond  Mount  Washing- 
ton are  the  peaks  of  Clay,  Adams,  Jefferson,  and  Madison, 
all  of  which  exceed  5,000  feet  in  height.  The  road  from 
the  Crawford  House,  therefore,  scales  five  mountains  in 
succession  :  it  is  the  longest,  but  by  far  the  most  compen- 
sating road  to  the  top  of  Mount  Washington.  That  from 
the  Glen  House,  at  the  eastern  base  of  the  mountain,  touches 
no  other  peak,  which  is  also  the  case  Avith  the  road  from 
Fabyan's,  up  the  valley  of  the  Ammonoosuc.  Both  the 
latter,  however,  are  practicable  for  carriages  about  half  the 
way. 

The  still  heat  we  had  felt  in  the  woodland  path  suddenly 
ceased,  and  a  strong  wind,  chilled  by  the  elevation  of  be- 
tween four  and  five  thousand  feet,  blew  upon  us.  The 
ladies  were  glad  to  use  the  porters'  rough  pea-jackets,  and 
those  who  were  unaccustomed  to  saddles  looked  at  the 
blue  mountain-gulfs  which  yawned  to  the  right  and  left, 
'with  an  awful  feeling  of  apprehension.  In  the  rocky  dip 
which  separated  us  from  Mount  Pleasant,  trees  no  longer 
grew :  the  path,  in  many  places,  was  a  steep  rocky  ladder, 
toilsome  both  to  man  and  beast.  Our  sturdy  guides  leaped 
back  and  forth,  supporting  and  encouraging  the  timorous 
ladies  ;  nervous  gentlemen  dismounted  and  led  their  horses, 


TRAVELS    AT    HOME.  359 

but  the  latter  were  as  nimble  and  sure-footed  as  cats,  and 
I  rode  my  "  Sleepy  David"  (so  the  beast  was  properly 
called)  down  and  up  without  fear  or  peril.  On  either  side 
opened  a  mountain  landscape — great  troughs  of  blue  forest 
at  first,  then  dimmer  ranges,  lighter  patches  of  cleared  land 
beyond,  sparkles  of  houses  and  villages,  and  far  waves  of 
purple  mist,  merging  in  the  sky. 

Our  path  did  not  scale  Mount  Pleasant,  but  crept  around 
its  eastern  side,  where  a  few  old  trees — bushes  in  appear- 
ance— grew,  being  sheltered  somewhat  from  the  nor'west- 
ern  winds.  Here  my  lady-fi-iend,  appalled  by  the  road,  and 
the  perils  of  the  side-saddle,  was  about  to  give  up  the  jour- 
ney, but  having  convinced  her  of  the  greater  security  of  the 
masculine  seat,  we  changed  saddles,  and  thenceforth  all 
went  well  enough.  I  would  advise  all  ladies  who  are  at  all 
nervous,  to  take  a  man's  saddle,  and  ride  as  Catharine  of 
Russia  did.  It  may  not  be  so  graceful,  but  then,  I  hope 
you  don't  go  up  Mount  Washington  to  display  your  own 
points  of  attraction. 

Mount  Franklin  came  next,  and  we  found  him  rougher, 
steeper,  and  more  laborious  than  his  Pleasant  predecessor. 
The  path  goes  directly  up  his  side  to  the  very  summit : 
path,  did  I  say  ? — rather  a  ruined  staircase,  with  steps  vary- 
ing from  one  to  three  feet  in  height,  agreeably  diversified  by 
smooth  planes  of  slanting  rock.  It  seemed  impossible  that 
the  horses  should  climb  these  latter  without  slipping,  yet 
they  all  did  so,  to  an  animal.  At  the  top,  we  had  reached 
a  height  of  4,900  feet,  without  encountering  a  cloud,  while, 
to  our  joy,  the  hood  of  Mount  "Washington  was  visibly 
thinner,  and  shoved  higher  up  on  his  brows. 


360  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

From  Franklin  to  Monroe  the  ridge  is  but  a  sharp  comb, 
barely  wide  enough  for  the  bridle-path,  and  falling  sheer 
down  to  the  wildernesses  of  forest  which  collect  the  waters 
of  the  Saco  and  the  Amraonoosuc.  This  comb,  in  my  opi- 
nion, commands  a  finer  view  than  that  from  Mount  Wash- 
ington. Looking  either  to  the  right  or  left,  the  picture  is 
partly  framed  by  the  vast  concave  sweep  of  the  mountain 
sides ;  below  you,  the  solitude  of  the  primeval  forest ; 
beyond,  other  mountains,  broader  valleys,  the  gray  gleam 
of  lakes,  and  the  distant  country,  flattened  into  faint  blue 
\vaves  by  the  elevation  from  which  you  behold  it.  All  the 
noted  summits  of  the  White  Mountain  region  are  here  visi- 
ble, and  Kearsarge,  Chocorua,  and  the  Franconia  Group 
display  themselves  with  tine  effect.  Your  satisfaction  is  not 
diminished  by  the  presence  of  the  rocky,  cloudy  mass,  which 
still  towers  high  over  you :  you  only  fear  that  its  summit 
will  not  give  you  grander  panoramas  than  those  unrolling 
below  you — which  is  the  case. 

"  "What  pleasure  lives  in  height  (the  shepherd  sang), 
In  height  and  cold,  the  splendor  of  the  hills?" 

A  great  deal,  certainly.  But  I  imagine  such  pleasure 
springs  not  merely  from  the  sense  of  beauty,  because  all 
details,  wherein,  mostly,  Beauty  lies,  are  swallowed  up  in 
the  iinmensity  of  tlie  airy  picture :  there  is  also  a  lurking, 
flattering  sense  of  power,  which  we  feel,  although  it  may 
not  consciously  float  on  the  surface  of  our  emotions.  We 
are  elevated  above  the  earth  :  other  men  and  their  concerns 
are  below  us:  their  stateliest  possessions  are  insignificant 
]jatches,  which  we  look  down  upon  without  respect  or  envy. 


TRAVELS    AT    HOME.  361 

Our  own  petty  struggles  and  ambitions  fade  away  also  in 
the  far  perspective.  We  stand  on  the  pinnacle  of  the  earth, 
whereof  Ave  are  lords,  and  above  us  there  is  nothing  but 
God. 

For  this  reason,  a  height  is  not  a  proper  place  for  a  home. 
Great  elevations  and  far  prospects  excite  the  intellect  rather 
than  move  the  heart.  No  man  of  loving  nature  would  build 
his  house  upon  a  mountain-peak.  "  Love  is  of  the  valley," 
and  his  chosen  home  is  shut  in  and  sheltered  by  hills  and 
woods,  nestled  in  a  warm  hollow  of  the  earth,  accessible, 
familiar,  and  yet  secluded.  One  would  rather  see  his 
neighbor's  trees  and  fields  near  him,  than  look  from  his 
window  upon  a  hundred  miles  of  blue  earth.  "  I  have 
climbed  to  this  summit  with  much  toil,"  says  Herwegh,  in 
one  of  his  poems,  "and  now  the  dust  of  those  streets  where 
I  lived  is  dearer  to  me  than  this  pure,  cold  air.  I  can 
almost  grasp  Heaven  with  my  hands,  and  my  heart  desires 
to  be  down  on  the  earth  again."  A  mountain-top  may  be 
a  fine  place  for  lovers,  in  the  spring-time  of  their  betrothal, 
but  when  their  day  of  exaltation  is  over,  and  the  common 
loves  and  common  cares  of  the  world  approach,  they  will 
come  down  and  settle  contentedly  at  the  base. 

Mount  Monroe  is  a  sharp,  rocky  mass,  rising  abruptly 
from  the  spinal  ridge.  Its  summit  has  an  elevation  of  five 
thousand  three  hundred  feet.  This,  however,  we  do  not 
scale,  but  climb  around  it  by  a  dangerous-looking  path,  and 
find  ourselves  on  the  ridge  again,  Avhich  here  broadens  out 
and  slopes  upward  to  Mount  Washington.  On  the  left,  in 
a  hollow,  about  a  hundred  feet  below  us,  is  the  Lake  of  the 
Clouds,   a  little   pool   of  blue-black  water,  out  of  which 

16 


362  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

trickles  the  Amraonoosuc,  highest-born  of  New-England 
rivers,  but  (like  the  scions  of  certain  families)  not  much  of 
a  stream,  after  all.  The  Saco,  of  three  or  four  thousand 
feet  lower  origin,  achieves  a  much  more  conspicuous 
destiny. 

By  this  time,  every  vestige  of  cloud  had  disappeared,  and 
the  chieftain  summit  rose  before  us  bare,  bleak,  and  cold,  a 
steep,  slightly  conical  mass  of  greenish-gray  rocks,  destitute 
of  a  single  shrub.  Here  and  there  grew  a  tuft  of  brown, 
hai'dy  grass,  or  a  bunch  of  dwarf,  delicate  white  flowers, 
with  a  sweet  odor  of  May  about  them.  The  strong  wind 
blew  cold  and  keen  from  Canada,  and  there  was  no  longer 
any  shelter — no  higher  peak  in  that  direction,  nearer  than 
the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  path,  or  rather  stairway,  was 
so  rough  and  laborious,  that  I  dismounted  for  awhile,  to  the 
great  joy  of  my  horse,  and  climbed  until  the  thin  air  failed 
to  supply  my  lungs.  It  was  a  steady  upward  pull  of  half 
an  hour,  before  we  found  the  sharp  crest  flatten  under  us, 
and  reached  the  fold  of  piled  stones  where  the  horses  are 
left.  The  rest  of  the  company  (twenty-eight  in  all)  had 
already  arrived,  and  some  of  the  gentlemen  were  engaged 
in  mixing  the  waters  of  an  icy  spring  among  the  rocks  with 
the  contents  of  pocket-flasks.  In  such  a  place,  and  under 
such  circumstances,  all — even  the  ladies — partook  of  the 
mixture  without  hesitation.  "  The  Maine  Law,  I  suppose, 
is  inoperative  up  here,"  I  said  to  the  guide.  "Oh,"  he 
replied,  "  no  law  comes  this  high :  we  are  out  of  the  State 
of  New-Hampshire."  If  a  man  should  commit  a  crime  in  a 
balloon,  where  should  he  be  tried  ? 

A  few  steps  further  brought  us  to  the  summit,  which  is  a 


TKAVELS   AT   HOME.  363 

platform  of  loose  rocks,  containing,  perhaps,  half  an  acre. 
Against  the  loftiest  pile,  in  the  centre,  is  built  a  long,  low 
hat,  styled  the  "Tip-Top  House."  Having  a  register,  a 
bar,  kitchen,  and  dining-room,  it  may  be  considered  a  hotel. 
A  few  steps  further  is  the  "  Summit  House"  (a  little  below 
the  summit),  where  travellers  can  pass  the  night  in  com- 
fortable bunks,  and  (perhaps)  see  the  sun  rise.  There  is 
one  room  for  ladies  and  one  for  gentlemen,  and  an  ancient 
chambermaid,  who  sleeps  in  the  doorway  between.  A 
magnificent  hotel  is  projected,  with  a  carriage-road  to  the 
very  summit.  The  latter,  I  was  informed,  will  be  com- 
pleted next  year,  but  I  have  my  doubts  about  it.  The 
enterprise,  to  be  sure,  is  not  half  so  great  as  that  of  the 
Simplon  Road,  but  it  could  scarcely  be  remunerative,  while 
there  are  such  excellent  hotels  as  Crawford's  and  the  Glen 
House,  in  more  agreeable  locations. 

One  thing,  however,  is  greatly  needed — a  tower  about 
fifty  feet  in  height,  which  will  enable  the  traveller  to  over- 
look the  edges  of  the  rocky  platform  and  take  in  the  Avhole 
grand  panorama  from  one  point.  Any  of  us  would  have 
gladly  paid  a  handsome  fee  for  such  a  lift.  At  present,  you 
must  climb  over  heaps  of  stone,  from  point  to  point,  to 
catch  the  various  views,  each  of  which  is  superb  of  its  kind, 
but  the  effect  would  be  infinitely  sublimed  if  they  could  all 
be  united  in  one  picture.  To  the  south-east  you  have  the 
valley  of  the  Saco,  with  its  sentinels  of  Chocorua  and  Kear- 
sarge;  to  the  south.  Lake  Winnipiseogee,  lying  in  its  cradle 
of  purple  hills ;  south-westward,  the  tossing  sea  of  wild, 
wooded,  nameless  peaks,  stretching  away  to  Franconia, 
whose  summits  shut  out  further  horizon;    westward,  the 


364  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

valley  of  the  Connecticut,  the  Green  Mountains,  with  Mans- 
field and  Camel's  Hump,  far  and  dim ;  Canadian  wilder- 
nesses on  the  north,  and  the  scattered  lakes  of  Maine — 
glimmering  among  pine-forests  which  seem  the  shadows  of 
clouds — to  the  east.  Earth  and  sky  melt  into  each  other, 
a  hundred  miles  away,  and  the  ocean,  which  is  undoubtedly 
within  the  sphere  of  vision,  is  not  to  be  distinguished  from 
the  air. 

The  atmosphere,  according  to  the  guides,  was  as  clear  as 
it  ever  is,  yet  so  great  were  the  distances,  so  vast  the  spaces 
overlooked,  that  all  the  circle  of  the  landscape,  except  the 
nearer  gorges  of  the  mountains,  appeared  dim  and  hazy. 
The  sense  of  elevation  is  thereby  increased:  you  stand, 
verily,  "  ringed  with  the  azure  world."  I  have  stood  on 
higher  summits  without  feeling  myself  lifted  so  far  above 
the  earth.  This — although  there  are  many  grand  features 
in  the  different  landscapes — is  the  predominant  characteristic. 

On  the  southern  side  of  the  peak,  under  a  pile  of  stones, 
vrhich  shelters  you  from  the  wind,  a  mountain  panorama  is 
unfolded,  which  most  of  our  party  barely  honored  with  a 
glance — some,  in  fact,  did  not  see  it  at  all — but  which,  to 
me,  was  grandly  and  gloriously  beautiful.  Here  you  see 
the  main  body  of  the  White  Mountains,  ridge  behind  ridge, 
summit  over  summit,  in  lines  commingling  like  the  waves 
of  the  sea,  harmonious  yet  infinitely  varied — an  exquisite 
study  of  mountain-forms,  tinted  with  such  delicate  grada- 
tions of  color  as  would  have  plunged  an  artist  into  despair. 
I  counted  no  less  than  twelve  planes  of  distance,  the  fur- 
thest no  less  distinct  than  the  nearest,  and  gem-like  in  their 
fine  clearness  of  outline. 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  365 

The  sound  of  a  bell  called  us  to  dinner,  and  it  was  no 
less  welcome  than  miraculous  a  fact,  that  beefsteaks  and 
potatoes,  pies  and  puddings  grew  on  the  barren  granite. 
Our  dining-room  had  walls  of  stone,  four  feet  thick,  plas- 
tered and  ceiled  with  muslin,  and  the  wind  whistled  in  a 
hundred  crannies ;  yet  the  meal  was  epicurean,  and  the 
shelter  inspired  a  feeling  of  comfort  beyond  that  gorgeous 
saloon  at  Crawford's.  There  was  a  party  of  thirty  up  from 
the  Glen  House,  making  fifty-eight  visitors  in  all.  The 
ladies,  in  their  collapsed  gowns  and  pea-jackets,  huddled 
on  the  warm  side  of  the  house  in  melancholy  groups,  while 
the  gentlemen  unstrapped  their  telescopes  and  opera-glasses 
and  climbed  upon  the  roof.  Two  o'clock  was  the  hour  fixed 
for  our  return,  which  allowed  us  but  an  hour  and  a  half 
upon  the  summit. 

The  descent  was  more  toilsome  than  the  ascent.  We 
walked,  in  fact,  to  the  Lake  of  the  Clouds,  where,  by 
spreading  ourselves  among  the  rocks,  we  caught  the  cun- 
ning, unwilling  horses.  The  wind  still  blew  furiously, 
although  the  sun  blistered  our  faces :  we  began  to  be  sore 
and  shaken,  from  the  rough  ride,  and  the  cheerful  chatter 
of  our  company  subsided  into  a  grim,  silent  endurance.  So, 
nearly  four  hours  passed  by,  until,  in  the  ferny  forests  of 
Mount  Clinton,  we  heard  the  strains  of  the  distant  band — 
not  now  discordant,  oh  no  !  a  seraphic  harmony,  rather — 
and,  by-and-by,  a  bruised,  jaded  company  straggled  out  of 
the  woods,  tumbled  out  of  the  saddle,  and  betook  them- 
selves to  sofas  and  rocking-chairs.  The  ladies,  without 
exception,  behaved  well — in  courage  and  endurance  they 
quite  equalled  the  gentlemen. 


366  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

And  now,  if  any  gentleman  ask  me  :  "  Shall  I  ascend 
Mount  Washington?"  I  answer  "Yes" — and  if  a  lady, 
"  yes"  again  :  and  if  they  reproacli  me  afterwards  for  the 
advice,  I  know  how  to  classify  them. 


5, — Montreal  and  Quebec. 

At  Crawford's  we  were  advised  to  take  a  road  which  leads 
northward  over  Cherry  Momitain,  and  so  around  to  Gor- 
ham,  on  the  Grand  Trunk.  We  should  have  followed  this 
advice,  but  for  two  circumstances — first,  there  was  no  direct 
conveyance  thither,  and  secondly,  had  there  been  one,  as  the 
day  was  Saturday,  we  should  have  been  obliged  to  wait 
thirty-six  hours  at  Island  Pond.  On  the  other  hand,  by 
leaving  Crawford's  at  4  a.  m.,  one  can  reach  Montreal  at 
11  P.M. — a  round-about  journey  of  270  miles,  but  very  de- 
lightful as  regards  scenery. 

My  friends  were  greatly  impressed  by  the  difference  be- 
tween Vermont  and  New  Hampshire  scenery.  Our  after- 
noon ride  up  White  River  Valley,  and  onward  to  the  shores 
of  Lake  Champlain,  bore  no  resemblance  to  those  of  the 
previous  days.  We  missed  the  almost  Alpine  grandeur  of 
the  White  Mountains,  the  vast  pine  woods,  and  the  broad 
lonely  lakes ;  but  the  mountains  on  either  hand  assumed 
every  variety  of  form.  Their  chains  were  broken  by  deep, 
lateral  glens,  the  meadows  were  smooth  and  green,  the  foli- 
age richer,  the  crops  better,  and  even  the  farm-houses  more 
inviting  in  their  aspect  of  thrift  and  prosperity.     We  had 


TEAVELS   AT   HOME.  367 

a  constant  succession  of  such  landscapes  as  you  see  in  the 
Northern  Swiss  cantons.  Glorious  showers  of  Summer  rain 
dropped  veil  after  veil  of  dim  gray  between  us  and  the 
pictures  of  the  car-window ;  then  the  sun  burst  from  behind 
a  cloud,  filling  the  air  with  palpable  gold ;  then  a  deep  in- 
digo shadow  fell  on  the  valley  and  the  gray  film  of  the 
shower  dropped  again.  To  have  properly  enjoyed  and 
appreciated  this  sceneay,  we  should  have  spent  three  days 
between  the  Junction  and  Essex,  not  in  a  railway  car,  but 
in  an  open  wagon,  propelled  by  horse  power. 

We  had  sunset  at  St.  Alban's,  and  by  the  time  we  reached 
Rouse's  Point,  it  was  confirmed  night.  Here  you  must 
change  your  tickets,  and  have  your  baggage  examined — 
which  consists  in  your  telling  the  official  that  you  are  tra- 
vellers and  carry  only  your  necessary  clothing,  whereupon 
he  makes  a  chalk  mark  on  your  trunks,  and  don't  ask  for 
your  key.  There  is  nothing,  in  fact,  to  indicate  that  you 
are  entering  a  foreign  country  (I  have  been  asked  the  same 
question  about  my  baggage  on  the  Camden  and  Amboy, 
and  Philadelphia  and  Baltimore  Railroads).  But  I  forgot : 
there  is  one  circumstance,  which  shows,  at  least,  a  change 
in  the  character  of  your  fellow  travellers.  The  sombre 
silence  of  the  American  car  no  longer  lulls  you  into  slum- 
ber ;  you  see  animated  gesticulations;  from  end  to  end  tlie 
car  rings  with  the  shrill,  snapping  voices  of  the  Canadian 
Fi-ench.  I  have  never  crossed  the  frontier  from  Rouse's 
Point  without  being  startled  by  this  change.  We  were 
heartily  weary,  but  sleep  was  impossible.  Our  progress 
was  slow,  and  it  was  a  welcome  sight  when,  towards  mid- 
night, we  saw  the  lights  of  Montreal  reflected  in  the  dark 
waters  of  the  St.  Lawrence. 


368  AT   HOME   AXD    ABROAD. 

The  Sunday  repose  was  doubly  pleasant  in  the  fresh  Ca- 
nadian air,  Next  morning  we  took  the  Grand  Trunk  road 
to  Quebec,  passing  through  the  deafening  Victoria  Bridge. 
Of  the  road,  there  is  little  to  say.  After  leaving  St.  Hya- 
cinthe,  the  country  is  mainly  a  level  stretch  of  wild  wood- 
land, until  you  reach  the  Chaudi^re.  We  arrived  at  Quebec 
in  season  to  view  the  sunset  from  Durham  Terrace,  which 
was  for  us  the  splendid  drop-curtain  of  the  day.  After 
that,  we  were  satisfied  to  return  to  the  Russell  House,  and 
sleep  upon  the  impressions  of  the  scene. 

The  sky  threatened  rain,  but  we  set  out  boldly  for  the 
Falls  of  Montmorency.  Descending  through  an  ancient  and 
fish-like  quarter  of  the  city,  we  crossed  the  St.  Charles 
River,  and  entered  the  long  suburban  street  which  extends 
to  the  Falls.  This  highway,  crowning  the  undulating  rise 
of  the  northern  shore,  commands  a  broad  and  superb  view 
of  the  queenly  city,  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  Isle  d'Orleans, 
and  the  opposite  bank.  It  is  therefore  a  favorite  location 
for  country  residences,  though  the  greater  part -of  the  soil 
seems  to  have  been  pre-occupied  by  the  French  habitans. 
Quaint  old  houses,  old  gardens  (which  ai*e  always  beauti- 
ful), small  fields  of  grain  and  potatoes,  and  village-clusters 
of  neat  cottages  succeeded  one  another  rapidly  on  both 
sides — all  with  the  same  mellow  aspect  of  age  and  use.  I 
saw  scarcely  half  a  dozen  new  houses  in  all  the  eight  miles. 
The  old  dwellings,  with  their  heavy  stone  walls,  tin  roofs, 
tall  chimneys,  and  the  snug  way  in  which  they  crouched 
for  shelter  among  groves  of  firs,  were  strongly  suggestive 
of  comfort  and  domesticity.  But  I  was  even  more  charmed 
with  the  French  cottages  and  their  cheerful  occupants.   For 


TRAVELS    AT    HOME.  369 

the  most  part  simple,  one-story  structures,  a  hundred  years 
old  or  more,  they  were  scrupulously  neat  and  orderly,  and 
the  women  and  girls  whom  we  saw  through  the  open  doors 
and  windows,  at  their  knitting  and  sewing,  or  engaged  in 
lively  gossip,  were  the  fitting  pictures  for  such  frames.  Many 
of  the  cottages  had  their  little  gardens,  with  beds  of  cab- 
bages and  onions,  and  some  bunches  of  gaudy  marigolds, 
snapdragons,  bergamot  and  lavender.  All  the  northern 
bank,  sloping  below  us,  carefully  cultivated  and  thickly  in- 
habited, basked  in  an  atmosphere  of  pastoral  peace  and 
simplicity,  while  in  the  background  towered  the  city  and 
citadel,  a  mountain  of  glittering  roofs. 

We  passed  the  Insane  Asylum,  a  handsome  building  of 
gray  granite,  in  front  of  which  a  harmless  patient,  in  fan- 
tastic attire,  was  walking  with  a  banner  in  his  hand.  A 
mile  or  two  beyond,  on  the  other  side  of  the  road,  stood  an 
ancient  stone  building,  with  steep  roofs  and  tall  chimneys, 
which,  according  to  the  coachman,  was  once  the  residence 
of  the  Marquis  de  Montcalm.  Little  boys,  with  bunches 
of  wild  flowers,  lay  in  wait  for  us  as  we  advanced,  and  all 
the  French  children,  standing  in  the  cottage-doors,  saluted 
us  by  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  wave  of  the  right  hand.  I 
wish  our  own  race  partook  a  little  more  of  the  ingrained 
cheerfulness  and  courtesy  of  the  French.  These  habitans 
are  not  only  kind,  faithful,  and  as  virtuous  as  the  average 
of  men — and  a  little  cheerful  cordiality  wins  their  hearts  at 
once — ^but  they  also  offer  an  example  of  religious  tolerance 
worthy  of  imitation.  They  are  very  devoted  to  their  own 
faith,  but  regard  their  Protestant  neighbors  without  the 

least  bitterness  of  prejudice. 

16* 


370  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

The  gray  clouds  which  had  been  gathering  during  our 
drive  finally  broke  out  into  rain,  just  as  we  reached  the 
Falls.  We  drew  up  at  a  house — a  compound  of  tavern  and 
Indian  curiosity-shop,  in  a  grove  of  evergreens,  and  were 
met  with  the  hospitable  announcement  "  Twenty-five  cents 
apiece  !"  A  party  of  Southern  gentlemen  who  preceded 
us  grumbled  loudly  at  this  tax  and  openly  expressed  their 
disgust  with  Canada ;  but  where  platforms  must  be  built, 
and  staircases  erected  for  the  traveller's  accommodation,  it 
is  nothing  more  than  fiiir  that  he  should  pay  for  it.  The 
native  American  mind,  however,  which  can  complacently 
contemplate  the  spending  of  fifty  dollars  on  a  spree,  rebels 
against  the  payment  of  fifty  cents  in  the  shape  of  a  just  tax. 
We  might  have  fine  macadamized  highways  in  all  the  older 
portions  of  the  United  States,  if  our  people  Avould  calculate 
the  present  wear  and  tear  of  teams,  and  be  willing  to  pay 
the  same  amount  in  the  shape  of  tolls.  But  no — none  of 
your  tolls !  Give  us  our  bad  roads  and  our  glorious  inde- 
pendence ! 

There  was  no  sign  of  a  cessation  of  the  rain,  and  we 
therefore  descended  through  the  grove  under  umbrellas, 
to  the  river,  which,  above  the  fall,  flows  in  a  rough  bed, 
some  forty  or  fifty  feet  deep.  The  stone  piers  of  the 
former  suspension  bridge  stand  on  either  side,  as  melan- 
choly monuments  of  its  fall.  The  cliains  gave  way  a  few 
years  ago,  as  a  farmer  with  his  horse  and  cart  was  passing 
over  the  bridge,  and  all  plunged  down  the  abyss  together. 
A  safe  platform  leads  along  the  rocks  to  a  pavilion  on  a 
jioint  at  the  side  of  the  fall,  and  on  a  level  with  it.  Here 
the  gulf,  nearly  three  hundred  feet  deep,  with  its  walls  of 


TRAVELS   AT  HOME.  371 

chocolate-colored  earth,  and  its  patches  of  emerald  herbage, 
wet  with  eternal  spray,  opens  to  the  St.  Lawrence. 

Montmorenci  is  one  of  the  loveliest  waterfalls.  In  its 
general  character  it  bears  some  resemblance  to  the  Pisse- 
vache,  in  Switzei'land,  which,  however,  is  much  smaller. 
The  water  is  snow-white,  tinted,  in  the  heaviest  portions 
of  the  fall,  with  a  soft  yellow,  like  that  of  raw  silk.  In  fact, 
broken  as  it  is  by  the  irregular  edge  of  the  rock,  it  reminds 
one  of  masses  of  silken,  flossy  skeins,  continually  overlap- 
ping one  another  as  they  fall.  At  the  bottom,  dashed 
upon  a  pile  of  rocks,  it  shoots  far  out  in  star-like  radii  of 
spray,  which  share  the  regular  throb  or  pulsation  of  the 
falling  masses.  The  edges  of  the  fall  flutter  out  into  lace- 
like points  and  fringes,  which  dissolve  into  gauze  as  they 
descend.  The  peculiar  charm  of  a  cataract  depends  on 
the  character  of  these  exquisite,  transient  forms. 

The  view  of  the  fall  from  below  must  be  still  finer,  in 
some  respects;  but  it  can  only  be  obtained  by  taking  a 
circuitous  path,  too  long  to  be  travelled  in  a  driving  rain. 
We  omitted  visiting  the  Natural  Steps  for  the  same  reason, 
and  set  off,  dripping,  for  Quebec.  All  afternoon  the  win- 
dows of  heaven  were  opened,  and  muddy  cataracts  poui-ed 
down  the  steep  streets.  At  Russell's,  the  roof  of  the  dining 
saloon  leaked  in  such  a  manner  that  little  streams  poured 
upon  the  heads  of  the  guests,  and  a  portion  of  the  floor 
was  swamped.  After  the  long  drouth,  this  rain  was  indeed 
a  blessing. 

Ever  since,  as  a  boy,  I  read  Prof.  Silliman's  "  Tour  to 
Quebec,"  it  had  been  one  of  my  wishes  to  visit  the  city. 
Pictures  and  descriptions,  I  found,  had  given  me  a  very 


872  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

accurate  idea  of  its  appearance.  The  high,  massive,  steep- 
roofed  stone  houses,  crowded  together  at  the  foot  of 
the  rock,  and  climbing  around  its  eastern  side,  the  nar- 
row,  crooked  streets,  old  churches,  contracted,  badly- 
paved  squares,  and  the  citadel,  with  its  huge  walls  of  de- 
fence, crowning  all,  exactly  answered  ray  anticipations; 
but  I  was  conscious  of  disappointment  in  one  particular. 
The  rock  is  not  a  perpendicular  cliff,  but  sloping,  covered 
with  a  growth  of  hardy  shrubs,  and  capable  of  being  scaled 
in  some  places.  I  read,  some  years  ago,  of  a  soldier  on 
guard  having  incautiously  stepped '  over  the  edge,  and 
fallen  two  hundred  and  fifty-seven  feet  through  the  air, 
alighting  upon  a  pile  of  earth  in  the  back-yard  of  a  house 
below,  without  any  other  inconvenience  than  a  g  neral 
sense  of  soreness,  from  which  he  recovered  in  a  few  days ! 
This  struck  me  as  one  of  the  most  beautiful  accidents  of 
which  I  had  ever  heard.  I  placed  it  on  my  list  of  "  remark- 
able escapes,"  beside  the  case  of  the  Vermont  quarryraan 
who  had  a  crow-bar  shot  through  his  brain.  But  I  fear  I 
must  give  it  up.  When  I  came  to  look  at  the  citadel,  I 
found  no  place  where  such  an  accident  could  possibly 
happen.  A  man,  indeed,  might  roll  from  top  to  bottom, 
and  find  himself  sore  at  the  end  of  the  journey. 

We  again  walked  on  Durham  Terrace,  the  view  from 
which  surpasses  that  from  Calton  Hill,  in  Edinburgh.  The 
Citadel  cannot  be  entered  without  a  special  permission. 
The  flat  summit  of  the  hill,  westward,  is  the  celebrated 
Plain  of  Abraham,  which  we  saw  from  the  other  side  of 
the  St.  Lawrence,  but  were  not  able  to  visit.  In  fact,  when 
we  left  Quebec,  it  was  with  the  consciousness  that  we  had 


TRAVELS    AT    HOAIE.  373 

not  done  justice  either  to  its  natural  beauties  or  its  historic 
associations.  Several  weeks  might  he  spent  with  great 
pleasure  and  profit  here,  and  in  the  neighboring  portions 
of  Lower  Canada. 

It  is  pleasant  to  notice  the  friendly  feeling  which  is 
growing  up  between  the  inhabitants  of  Canada  and  the 
United  States.  The  number  of  American  tourists  and 
sportsmen  who  come  this  way  is  annually  increasing,  and 
with  it  there  is  a  certain  assimilation  of  habits,  by  which 
both  parties  are  the  gainers.  For  travellers  the  frontier 
is  but  a  nominal  line,  and  in  the  newer  parts  of  Canada 
there  is  nothing  but  the  preponderance  of  English  faces 
among  the  inhabitants  to  indicate  a  difference  of  nation- 
ality. On  steamboats,  and  in  hotels,  the  two  peoples  fra- 
ternize readily  and  naturally,  and  discuss  their  points  of 
difference  without  acrimony.  Twenty  years  ago  this  was 
not  the  case.  An  American  was  looked  upon  with  preju- 
dice, if  not  with  suspicion,  and  if  he  settled  in  the  country 
was  treated  as  an  unwelcome  intruder.  Now,  there  are 
communities  of  American  residents  in  Montreal,  Toronto, 
and  the  towns  of  Canada  West,  many  of  whom  are  deserv- 
edly honored  by  their  Canadian  brethren.  The  increased 
facilities  of  intercourse,  the  intimacy  of  commercial  rela- 
tions, and,  above  all,  the  difference  of  tone  adopted  towards 
the  United  States  by  the  English  Government— ;/br  Canada 
not  only  reflects^  hut  exaggerates  English  opinion* — have 

*  The  reader  wUl  naturally  compare  this  expression,  written  in  July, 
1860,  with  the  present  condition  of  affairs  (December,  1861).  Nothing 
seems  to  be  so  reckless  and  fickle  as  the  tone  of  popular  sentiment  Three 
months  after  my  visit  to  Quebec  the  heir  to  England's  throne  was  received 


3H  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

wrought  an  entire  revolution  in  public  sentiment.  Let  me 
confess,  also,  that  this  change  is  reciprocal,  No  decent 
American  can  visit  Canada  without  finding  many  people 
whom  he  can  esteem,  and,  when  he  is  tempted  to  pick  at 
the  flaws  of  the  Colonial  Government,  let  him  first  think 
of  the  flimsy  patches  in  the  woof  of  his  own. 


6. — Up  the  Saguenay. 

Let  us  now  step  on  board  the  steamer  Magnet,  Capt. 
Howard,  bound  for  the  Saguenay  River.  Most  of  the  Summer 
tourists  whom  we  had  met  at  Russell's,  on  our  arrival,  were 
booked  for  the  same  trip,  and  of  the  hundred  passengers  on 
board,  more  than  half  were  Americans.  The  remainder 
were  English  Canadians,  bound  for  the  various  watering- 
places  doAvn  the  St.  Lawrence.  As  so  much — nay,  all — of 
our  enjoyment  depended  on  the  weather,  it  was  comforting 
to  find  the  morning  mist  rolled  away,  the  sky  clear,  and  a 
warm,  genial  sun  in  the  midst  of  it. 

The  St.  Lawrence,  which,  at  Quebec,  is  not  more  than 

in  the  United  States  with  a  welcome,  truly  sublime  in  its  sincerity  and 
generosity.  Now,  the  Enghsli  press  and  people,  and  their  subservient 
imitators  in  Canada,  are  convulsed  witli  a  madness — so  blind  and  unrea- 
sonable that  it  taxes  our  powers  of  belief — to  rush  to  war  in  consequence 
of  a  slight  technical  difference,  and  in  defence  of  an  "  institution,"  which 
they  have  heretofore  held  in  utter  abhorrence!  "Who  shall  venture  to 
write  history  when  the  professed  "  moral  sense  "  of  half  a  century  turns 
out  to  have  been  a  sham — when  England,  whoso  conscience  on  this  point, 
at  least,  was  conceded,  becomes  the  Pecksniff  of  nations? 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  375 

a  mile  wide,  broadens  immediately  below  the  city  into  a 
majestic  expanse  of  water,  which  the  great  Isle  d'Oi-leans 
divides  into  two  nearly  equal  arms.  The  hurricane-deck 
of  the  steamer,  from  the  moment  of  departure,  offered  us  a 
panorama  so  grand,  and  fair,  and  attractive  on  all  sides,  that 
the  fear  of  losing  any  portion  of  it  kept  us  vibrating  from 
fore  to  aft,  and  from  aft  forward  again.  Behind  us  lay  t lie 
city,  with  its  tinned  roofs  glittering  in  the  morning  sunshine, 
and  its  citadel-rock  towering  over  the  river ;  on  the  south- 
ern shore.  Point  Levi,  picturesquely  climbing  the  steep 
bank,  embowered  in  dark  trees ;  then  the  wooded  bluffs 
with  their  long  levels  of  farm-land  behind  them,  and  the 
scattered  cottages  of  the  habitans^  while,  northward  the 
shore  rose  with  a  gradual,  undulating  sweep,  glittering,  far 
inland,  with  houses,  and  gardens,  and  crowding  villages, 
until  it  reached  the  dark,  stormy  line  of  the  Laurentian 
Mountains  in  the  north-east.  In  front,  the  Isle  of  Orleans 
reproduced  the  features  of  the  shores.  Pictures  so  bright, 
so  broad,  so  crowded  with  life  and  beauty,  I  had  not 
expected  to  find. 

"This  is  no  longer  America,"  said  my  friends.  There 
was  not  a  feature  in  all  the  wide  view  (except  our  double- 
decked  steamer),  to  remind  us  of  the  New  World;  yet,  on 
the  other  hand,  we  could  not  have  referred  it  to  any  one 
portion  of  Europe.  The  sky,  the  air,  the  colors  of  the  land- 
scape, were  from  Norway ;  Quebec  and  the  suri'ounding  vil 
lages  suggested  Normandy — except  the  tin  roofs  and  spires, 
which  were  Russian,  rather ;  while  here  and  there,  though 
rarely,  were  the  marks  of  English  occupancy.  The  age,  the 
order,  the  apparent  stability  and  immobility  of  society,  as 


376  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

illustrated  by  external  things,  belonged  decidedly  to  Europe, 
This  part  of  Canada  is  but  seventy  or  eighty  years  older 
than  New-England,  yet  there  seems  to  be  a  difference  of 
five  hundred  years.  A  century  of  foreign  domination  has 
made  no  material  change  in  the  character  and  habits  of  the 
French  population.  In  fact,  the  change  in  the  peasantry 
of  France  has  been  much  greater  during  the  same  period. 
That  magic  atmosphere  of  the  Past,  which  makes  Europe 
so  attractive  to  an  American,  already  spreads  a  thin  veil 
over  these  Canadian  shores. 

As  we  approached  the  end  of  the  Isle  d'Orleans,  a  spar- 
kle of  silver  light  shone  through  the  trees  fringing  the  chasm 
on  the  northern  shore — then  a  long,  wavy  line,  and,  at 
length,  the  whole  cascade  of  Montmorenci  opened  to  the 
view,  glittering  in  the  sun.  We  were  two  or  three  miles 
distant,  and  no  sound  reached  our  ears,  but  the  movement 
of  the  falling  water,  the  silent  play  of  airiest  light  and  sha- 
dow over  its  face — like  ripples  on  a  skein  of  snowy  silk — 
was  exquisitely  beautiful.  Many  varieties  of  scenery  as  I 
have  looked  upon,  it  was  at  last  something  new  to  see  a 
great  waterfall  set  in  the  midst  of  a  vast,  sunny  landscape, 
where  it  is  seen  as  one  of  many  features,  and  not  itself  the 
point  to  which  all  others  are  subordinate. 

Taking  the  channel  between  Isle  d'Orleans  and  the  south 
shore,  we  lost  sight  of  Quebec,  and  settled  ourselves  quietly 
on  the  forward  deck,  to  contemplate  the  delicious  pastoral 
pictures  which  were  unfolded  on  either  side.  The  island, 
which  is  twenty  miles  long,  is  densely  populated  and  most 
thoroughly  cultivated.  The  high,  undulating  hills  are 
dotted  with  cottages,  mostly  white  as  snow,  roof  and  all, 


TRAVELS    AT    HOME.  377 

and  every  cove  of  the  irregular  shore  has  its  village.  Most 
of  the  St.  Lawrence  pilots  have  their  homes  npon  this  island, 
the  population  of  which  is  exclusively  French.  The  per- 
manence of  habits  to  which  I  have  referred,  is  exhibited  on 
the  southern  shore  of  the  river,  where  the  broad,  original 
fields  of  the  father  have  been  portioned  among  his  children, 
and  their  diminished  inheritances  among  tJieirs,  until  you 
see  narrow  ribbons  of  soil  rather  than  fields.  There  is  thus 
an  apparent  density  of  population,  an  aspect  of  age  and  long- 
culture,  which  is  scarcely  to  be  seen  anywhere  else  on  the 
American  Continent. 

The  grand  features  of  the  scenery,  no  less  than  the  power 
of  transmitted  associations,  must  bind  these  people  to  their 
homes.  They  are  happy,  contented,  and  patriotic — if  such 
a  term  can  be  properly  applied  to  them,  who,  governed  by 
a  foreign  race,  have  forgotten  the  ties  which  once  bound 
them  to  their  own.  The  soil,  I  believe,  is  good,  but  the 
climate — that  of  lat.  60°  on  the  European  Coast — makes 
their  lives  necessarily  laborious,  and  diminishes  the  profits 
of  agriculture  to  such  an  extent  that  most  of  them  barely 
live.  Cattle  must  be  stabled  during  seven  months  of  the 
year,  and  when  the  hay-crop  fails,  as  this  Summer,  half  their 
resourcfes  fail  with  it.  A  gentleman  who  owns  a  farm  on 
the  northern  shore  informed  me  that  he  can  just  support 
his  family,  and  no  more.  Another,  who  has  several  cows 
during  the  Summer,  which  are  valued  at  $20  apiece,  sells 
them  in  the  Fall,  on  ascertaining  that  it  costs  just  |28  to 
keep  them  through  the  Winter.  By  buying  fresh  ones  in 
the  Spring,  he  saves  $8  a  head.  It  is  now  the  height  of  Sum- 
mer, and  a  wind  is  blowing  which  makes  us  shiver :   what 


dl8  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

must  it  be  in  the  dead  of  Winter  ?  I  never  visit  these 
northern  regions  without  a  vivid  recollection  of  those  tropic 
islands  Avhere  life  is  one  long,  splendid  Summer — where 
twenty  days'  work  in  every  year  will  support  a  man.  Here, 
however,  is  a  home,  as  well  as  there ;  and,  so  long  as  a  man 
is  happy,  it  makes  no  difference  whether  he  lives  at  the 
Equator  or  the  North  Pole. 

Below  the  Isle  d'Orleans,  the  St.  Lawrence  exhibits  a 
majestic  breadth.  In  fact,  this  is  already  an  inlet  of  the 
sea  rather  than  a  river.  The  water  is  brackish  at  flood-tide, 
and  the  wind  soon  gets  up  a  disagreeable  sea.  At  Quebec, 
the  rise  and  fall  of  the  tides  is  sixteen  feet,  but  in  the  Lower 
St.  Lawrence  it  frequently  amounts  almost  to  a  bore.  Seve- 
ral low,  wooded  islands  succeed ;  the  Laurentian  Mountains 
come  down  boldly  to  the  river  on  the  north,  and  as  we  stand 
across  toward  Murray  Bay,  the  south  shore  fades  into  a  dun 
blue  line,  above  which  rise,  in  the  distance,  groups  of  lofty 
hills.  These  are  the  connecting  link  between  the  White 
Mountains  and  the  Laurentian  chain,  which  stretches  away 
across  the  country  to  the  coast  of  Labrador.  We  ran  along 
the  bases  of  headlands,  one  thousand  to  fifteen  hundred  feet 
in  height,  wild  and  dark  with  lowering  clouds,  gray  with 
rain,  or  touched  with  a  golden  transparency  by  the  sunshine 
— alternating  belts  of  atmospheric  effect,  which  greatly  in- 
creased their  beauty.  Indeed,  all  of  us  who  saw  the  Lower 
St.  Lawrence  for  the  first  time  were  surprised  by  the  impos- 
ing character  of  its  scenery. 

The  Isle  aux  Coudres,  which  we  next  passed,  is  a  beauti- 
ful pastoral  mosaic,  in  the  pale  emerald  setting  of  the  river. 
Here,  I  am  told,  the  habitans  retain  their  ancient  customs 


TRAVELS    AT    HOME.  379 

to  a  greater  extent  than  in  any  other  part  of  Lower  Canada. 
One  need  not  refer  to  History  to  ascertain  their  Norman 
descent :  it  is  sufficiently  exhibited  in  their  fields,  cottages, 
and  gardens. 

Murray  Bay,  a  short  distance  beyond,  is  the  fashionable 
watering-place  on  the  north  shore,  as  Kakouna  is  for  the 
southern.  It  is  a  small  cove,  opening  up  into  a  picturesque 
dell  among  the  mountains.  Access  to  it  is  had  by  means  of 
an  immense  wooden  pier — a  Government  work,  built  by  con- 
tract, and,  of  course,  put  in  the  wrong  place.  "  It  seems, 
then,"  I  said  to  the  Canadian  gentleman  who  imparted  to 
me  this  piece  of  information,  "that  your  Government  jobs 
are  no  better  performed  than  ours."  "  Oh,  much  worse," 
was  his  answer.  "  Is  it  possible  they  can  be  worse  ?"  I  asked 
incredulously.  "  I  assm-e  you,"  said  he,  "our  official  cor- 
ruption surpasses  yours ;  but  we  have  the  English  reluc- 
tance to  say  much  about  such  things.  We  quietly  cover 
up,  or  ignoi*e,  what  we  cannot  help ;  whereas,  you,  in  the 
States,  make  an  outcry  from  one  end  of  the  land  to  the 
other.  The  difference  is  not  in  the  fact,  but  in  the  procla- 
mation of  it."  If  this  view  be  true,  it  is  consoling  to  us, 
but  discouraging  to  humanity. 

The  wind  blew  violently  from  the  west,  and  our  steamer 
pitched  dangerously  at  the  end  of  the  pier.  The  passengers 
were  thrust  up  the  plank,  or  tumbled  down  it,  to  the  great 
diversion  of  a  crowd  of  spectators,  whose  ajjpetites  were 
whetted  by  the  prospect  of  an  accident.  I  Avas  much  amused 
by  the  timidity  of  three  priests,  who,  when  the  vessel  gave 
a  mild  lurch,  sprang  to  some  awning-stanchions  with  every 
appeai-ance  of  extreme  terror.     One  of  them,  seeing  no  other 


380  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

support  near  at  hand,  seized  upon  a  lady,  and  clung  to  her 
arm  rather  longer  than  was  necessary.  They  then  rushed 
collectively  into  the  cabin,  whence  they  did  not  emerge 
afterward,  although  the  water  became  smooth.  This  re- 
minds me  of  the  singular  fact  that  the  most  timorous  class 
of  persons  at  sea  are  clergymen.  Why  those  who  can  cou- 
rageously face  death  in  other  forms  should  exhibit  this 
weakness,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand,  but  the  fact  is  so 
patent  as  to  have  become  a  sailor's  proverb. 

A  jolly,  red-gilled,  full-blooded  Englishman,  lying  at  full 
length  on  a  narrow  lintel  above  the  gangway,  was  recount- 
ing his  exploits  in  trout-fishing.  I  forget  how  many  hundred 
he  had  caught  in  the  mountain-streams  the  day  before. 
"  How  about  the  bathing  ?"  asked  some  one.  "  Capital !" 
he  exclaimed,  "  I  had  a  bath  to-day."  We  were  wrapped 
in  the  thickest  shawls,  and  the  bare  idea  made  us  shudder, 
but  one  look  at  the  speaker,  whose  frame  contained  latent 
carbon  enough  to  melt  an  iceberg,  explained  to  me  the 
mystery  of  bathing  in  such  waters.  We,  who  are  thin- 
blooded  Southerners,  in  comparison,  would  not  have  found 
it  so  enjoyable. 

Leaving  Murray  Bay,  we  stood  diagonally  across  the  St. 
Lawrence  to  Rivifere  du  Loup,  which  is  on  the  southei'n 
shore,  nearly  a  hundred  miles  below  Quebec.  The  river  is 
here  about  twenty-five  miles  wide,  and  presents  a  clear-  sea- 
horizon  to  the  eastward.  It  was  almost  sunset  when  Ave 
succeeded  in  making  fast  to  the  long  pier,  and  the  crowd 
oi  habitans^  with  their  ricketty,  one-horse  caleches,  who 
had  been  patiently  watching  our  battle  with  the  wind  for 
an  hour  or  more,  were  enabled  to  offer  theii"  services.  Some 


I'KAVELS    AT   HOME.  381 

of  our  passengers  were  bound  for  Kakouna,  six  miles  fur- 
ther down  the  shore,  and  landed  here ;  while  those  who 
had  shipped  for  the  entire  trip  were  anxious  to  visit  the 
village,  whose  white  houses,  and  tall  gray  church  crowning 
the  hill,  gleamed  softly  in  the  last  gold  of  the  sun.  It  was 
pleasant  to  find  hackmen  who  could  accost  you  once,  and 
once  only,  in  an  ordinary  tone  of  voice,  and  whose  first  de- 
mands were  moderate  enough  to  be  accepted. 

I  chose  an  honest  fellow,  whose  face  was  English,  though 
his  language  and  nature  were  decidedly  Fi-ench,  and  pre- 
sently we  were  bouncing  in  his  car  over  a  rough  road, 
around  the  deep  cove  which  separates  the  landing-place 
from  the  village  of  Riviere  du  Loup.  "Fbi7a  du  hon  hie!'''' 
said  he,  pointing  to  some  fields  of  very  scanty  oats,  and  his 
admiration  appeared  so  genuine  that  I  was  compelled  to 
admire  them  also.  "  Voire  cheval  est  hoiteux^''  I  replied, 
pointing  to  his  limping  horse.  "  (9A,  pardon^  monsieur  .^" 
said  he,  "c'es^  une  jument^  vaillante,  vigoureuse  !  Get  up, 
ma  paresseiisse  /"  and  with  an  extra  shake  of  the  lines,  away 
we  dashed,  showering  the  mud  on  all  sides.  By  this  time, 
the  sun  had  set,  and  the  village  appeared  before  us,  neat, 
trim,  and  home-like,  with  a  quaint,  Old-World  air.  Houses 
one  story  high,  scrupulously  white-washed  doors,  raised 
above  the  average  level  of  the  winter  snows,  well-kept  gar- 
dens, and  clean  gravel  roads,  were  the  principal  features  of 
the  place.  The  river  comes  down  a  wild  glen  in  two  bold 
waterfalls,  and  finishes  its  course  by  driving  a  large  flour- 
mill.  A  mile  inland  is  the  terminus  of  the  St.  Lawrence 
branch  of  the  Grand  Trunk  Railroad. 

We  drove  around  and  through  the  village  in  the  gather- 


382  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

ing  twilight,  visited  the  new  Catholic  Church,  of  immense 
dimensions,  and  finally  turned  about,  on  the  top  of  the  hill, 
whence  a  broad,  macadamized  road  struck  southward  into 
the  country.  This  was  the  Government  highway  to  St. 
Johns,  New  Brunswick,  threa  hundred  miles  distant.  It 
is  now  finished,  with  the  exception  of  eighteen  miles  along 
Lake  Temiscouata,  which  will  be  completed  this  year. 
The  American  frontier  is  not  more  than  thirty  or  forty 
miles  distant  from  Riviere  du  Loup.  The  overland  jour- 
ney from  the  Bay  of  Fundy  to  the  St.  Lawrence  ofiers 
many  inducements  to  the  home  tourist.  Were  I  travelling 
alone,  I  should  undertake  it  myself.  In  winter,  the  trip 
from  Riviere  du  Loup  to  Madawaska  is  sometimes  made  in 
a  day. 

The  Magnet  lay  at  the  pier  until  three  o'clock  this  morn- 
ing, when  she  started  for  the  Saguenay,  across  the  St.  Law- 
rence, but  twenty-seven  miles  distant.  When  I  went  on 
deck,  we  were  passing  Tadoussac,  a  post  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  just  inside  the  Saguenay.  Here,  an  old 
Jesuit  church  is  pointed  out  to  the  visitor  as  the  first 
church  built  on  the  American  continent.  This  must  be  a 
mistake,  however,  as  one  which  was  built  by  Cortez  is 
still  standing  in  Vera  Cruz,  and  Jacques  Cartier's  first  visit 
to  Canada  was  made,  I  believe,  in  1542.  Nevertheless, 
the  little  chapel  of  Tadoussac  is  not  only  an  interesting 
antiquity,  but  a  picturesque  object  in  itself.  Two  miles 
farther  is  L'Anse  a  VEau^  a  lumber  station,  where  we 
touched,  and  where,  to  my  regret,  Mr.  Witcher,  an  ofiicial 
surveyor,  whose  conversation  I  had  found  very  instructive, 
left  us. 


TEATELS   AT   HOME,  383 

Passing  around  the  headland  of  La  Boule,  we  found  our- 
selves at  last  surrounded  with  the  gray  rocks  of  the  Sague- 
nay.  The  morning  was  clear,  but  cold ;  an  icy  wind  blew 
down  the  river,  and  the  more  delicate  lady-passengers 
congregated  about  the  cabin-stove.  No  magical  illusions 
of  atmosphere  enwrap  the  scenery  of  this  northern  river. 
Everything  is  hard,  naked,  stern,  silent.  Dark-gray  cliflEs 
of  granitic  gneiss  I'ise  from  the  pitch-black  water;  firs  of 
gloomy  green  are  rooted  in  their  crevices  and  fringe  their 
summits ;  loftier  ranges,  of  a  dull,  indigo  hue,  show  them- 
selves in  the  background,  and,  over  all,  bends  a  pale,  cold, 
northern  sky.  This  keen  air,  which  brings  out  every  object 
with  a  crystalline  distinctness,  even  contracts  the  dimen- 
sions of  the  scenery,  diminishes  the  height  of  the  clifis, 
and  apparently  belittles  the  majesty  of  the  river,  so  that 
the  first  impression  is  one  of  disappointment.  Still,  it 
exercises  a  fascination  which  you  cannot  resist.  You  look, 
and  look,  fettered  by  the  fresh,  novel,  savage  stamp  which 
Nature  exhibits,  and  at  last,  as  in  St.  Peter's  or  at  Niagara, 
learn  from  the  character  of  the  separate  features  to  appre- 
ciate the  grandeur  of  the  whole. 

The  Saguenay  is  not,  properly,  a  river.  It  is  a  tremen- 
dous chasm,  like  that  of  the  Jordan  Valley  and  the  Dead 
Sea,  cleft  for  sixty  miles  through  the  heart  of  a  mountain 
Avilderness.  The  depth  of  the  water  vai'ies  from  twenty- 
five  to  one  hundred  and  forty-seven  fathoms,  and  the 
height  of  the  rocks  on  either  side  from  five  hundred  to 
fifteen  himdred  feet.  On  approaching  Chicoutimi,  sixty 
miles  from  the  St.  Lawrence,  the  river  suddenly  becomes 
shallow,  and  thence  to  Lake  St.  John  it  is  an  insignificant 


384  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

stream,  navigable  only  for  canoes.  The  upper  valley, 
which  is  rapidly  becoming  settled,  is  said  to  be  very  fertile, 
and  to  possess  a  ifiilder  climate  than  Quebec,  although 
nearly  two  degrees  further  north.  But  from  L'Anse  a 
I'Eau  to  Ha-ha  Bay,  the  extent  of  our  voyage,  there  are  not 
more  than  half  a  dozen  places  where  a  settler  could  find 
room  enough  for  a  house  and  garden. 

Steadily  upwards  we  went,  the  windings  of  the  river  and 
its  varying  breadth — from  half  a  mile  to  nearly  two  miles 
— giving  us  a  shifting  succession  of  the  grandest  pictures. 
Shores  that  seemed  roughly  piled  together  out  of  the  frag- 
ments of  chaos  overhung  us — great  masses  of  rock,  gleam- 
ing duskily  through  their  scanty  drapery  of  evergreens, 
here  lifting  long,  irregular  walls  against  the  sky,  there  split 
into  huge,  fantastic  forms  by  deep  lateral  goi'ges,  up  which 
we  saw  the  dark-blue  crests  of  loftier  mountains  in  the 
rear.  The  water  beneath  us  was  black  as  night,  with  a 
pitchy  glaze  on  its  surface,  and  the  only  life  in  all  the 
savage  solitude,  was,  now  and  then,  the  back  of  a  white 
porpoise,  in  some  of  the  deeper  coves. 

By  nine  o'clock,  we  saw  the  headland  of  Eternity  before 
us,  with  Trinity  beyond.  These  two  celebrated  capes  are 
on  the  western  bank  of  the  Saguenay,  divided  by  a  cove 
about  half  a  mile  wide.  They  are  gray,  streaked  masses 
of  perpendicular  rock,  said  to  be  fifteen  hundred  feet  in 
height.  By  the  eye  alone,  I  should  not  have  estimated 
them  at  over  one  thousand  feet,  but  I  was  assured  the 
height  had  been  ascertained  by  actual  measurement.  Cer- 
tain it  is,  they  appear  much  higher  on  the  Second  than  on 
the  first  view.    These  awful  cliffs,  planted  in  water  nearly  a 


TBAVELS   AT    HOME.  385 

thousand  feet  deep,  and  soaring  into  the  very  sky,  form  the 
gateway  to  a  rugged  valley,  stretching  inland,  and  covered 
with  the  dark,  primeval  forest  of  the  Xorth.  I  doubt 
whether  a  sublimer  picture  of  the  wilderness  is  to  be  found 
on  this  continent. 

Toward  noon,  we  reached  Ha-ha  Bay,  which  is  a  branch 
or  inlet  of  the  river,  some  miles  in  length.  At  its  extre- 
mity, there  is  a  flourishing  settlement.  The  hills  around 
were  denuded  of  their  forests ;  fields  of  wheat,  oats,  and 
barley,  gi'ew  on  the  steep  slopes,  and  the  cold  ridges  were 
dotted  with  hay-cocks.  Capt.  Howard  gave  us  but  an 
hour,  but  Ave  determined  to  spend  the  most  of  it  ashore. 
As  we  approached  the  beach  in  the  steamer's  boat,  we 
noticed  a  multitude  of  caleches^  drawn  by  ponies,  standing 
in  the  water.  Presently  we  grounded,  and  there  was  a 
rush  of  vehicles  to  our  rescue.  With  infinite  yelling  and 
splashing,  and  much  good-humored  emulation  on  the  part 
of  the  drivers,  half  a  dozen  caleches  were  backed  out 
against  the  boat  (the  water  rising  over  the  shafts),  and  we 
stepped  into  them.  Away  went  the  delighted  coachmen, 
and  our  wheeled  gondolas  soon  reached  the  shore.  The 
village  contains  about  a  hundred  houses,  most  of  which 
were  quite  new.  I  noticed  some  cherry  and  plum  trees  in 
the  gardens,  and  the  usual  vegetables,  which  appeared  to 
thrive  very  well. 

Our  coachman,  an  habitant^  was  loud  in  his  praises  of 
the  place,  although  he  had  so  little  to  show  us.  "  Where 
is  the  hotel  ?''  I  asked,  after  we  had  seen  all  the  cottages 
and  saw-mills,  "There  is  none,''  he  answered.  "But 
where  do  strangers  go,  when  they  come  here  ?"     "  Why," 

17 


388  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

said  he,  with  a  grin,  "  they  dori^t  come  !"  Thereupon,  we 
drove  hurriedly  back  into  the  water,  stepped  from  our 
carriages  into  the  boat,  and  returned  to  the  steamer. 

Our  return  down  tlie  Saguenay  convinced  me  that  the 
scenery  of  the  liver  cannot  be  properly  appreciated  at  a 
single  visit.  Viewing  the  same  objects  a  second  time,  we 
found  them  markedly  grander  and  more  imposing.  The 
river  is  a  reproduction — truly  on  a  contracted  scale — of 
the  fjords  of  the  Norwegian  coast.  One  of  my  companions 
was  also  a  fellow-traveller  in  ISTorvvay  with  me  three  years 
ago,  and  was  no  less  struck  with  the  resemblance  than 
myself.  The  dark  mountains,  the  tremendous  precipices, 
the  fir  forests,  even  the  settlements  at  Ha-ha  Bay  and 
L'Anse  h,  I'Eau  (except  that  the  houses  are  white  instead 
of  red),  are  as  completely  Norwegian  as  they  can  be.  The 
Scandinavian  skippers  who  come  to  Canada  all  notice  this 
resemblance,  and  many  of  them,  I  learn,  settle  heVe. 

As  we  passed  again  under  the  headlands  of  Trinity  and 
Eternity,  I  tried  my  best  to  make  them  fifteen  hundred 
feet  in  height — but  without  success.  The  rock  of  Gibraltar 
and  Horseman  Island,  both  of  which  attain  that  height, 
loomed  up,  in  my  memory,  to  a  much  loftier  elevation. 
The  eye,  however,  is  likely  to  be  deceived,  when  all  the 
proportions  of  a  landscape  are  on  the  same  vast  scale ;  as  in 
St.  Peter's,  the  colossal  cherubs  which  hold  the  font, 
appear,  at  the  first  glance,  to  be  no  larger  than  children  of 
six  years  old.  From  long  practice,  I  can  measure  heights 
and  distances  with  tolerable  accuracy  by  the  eye,  under 
ordinary  circumstances ;  but  even  our  most  certain  and 
carefully-trained  faculties  aie  more  or  less  influenced  by 


TEAVELS    AT   HOME.  387 

habit.  The  compositor,  who  has  been  using  minion  type 
for  some  days,  knows  how  unusually  large  long  primer 
appears,  and  how  small,  after  pica.  I  have  no  doubt  but 
that  the  dimensions  of  the  Saguenay  scenery  were  some- 
what dwarfed  to  me,  by  coming  directly  from  the  White 
Mountains. 

Capt.  Howard  kindly  ran  bis  boat  a  little  out  of  her 
course,  to  give  us  the  best  view  of  Trinity  and  the  sublime 
landscape  of  Eternity  Cove.  The  wall  of  dun-colored 
syenitic  granite,  ribbed  with  vertical  streaks  of  black,  hung 
for  a  moment  directly  over  our  heads,  as  high  as  three 
Trinity  spires,  atop  of  one  another.  Westward,  the  wall 
ran  inland,  projecting  bastion  after  bastion  of  inaccessible 
rock  over  the  dark  forests  in  the  bed  of  the  valley.  A 
photographer  on  board  took  two  or  three  views,  but  no 
artist,  either  human  or  solar,  can  give  more  than  the 
faintest  hint  of  such  scenery,  because  a  near  view  is  impos- 
sible, and  the  effect  diminishes  in  geometrical  ratio  as  you 
recede. 

Leaving  the  black  water  and  the  giant  cliffs  behind  us, 
we  steamed  across  the  St.  Lawrence  to  Riviere  du  Loup, 
which  Ave  reached  at  dusk.  The  same  crowd  of  Canadian 
teams  waited  patiently  on  the  long  pier,  but  waited  in  vain. 
Our  captain  took  advantage  of  the  moonlight  to  continue 
his  journey,  and  we  slept  until  morning  dawned  on  the  Isle 
Aux  Coudre^  A  slight  accident  detained  us  an  hour  or 
more,  and  we  did  not  see  the  silvery  roofs  of  Quebec  until 
after  noon.  Nevertheless,  we  were  so  well  satisfied  with 
the  trip,  that  most  of  us  would  have  willingly  repeated  it. 


388  at  home  and  abroad. 

1. — Niagara,  and  its  Visitors. 

We  were  to  have  left  Montreal  at  nine  o'clock  in  the 
evemng — the  regular  hour  for  the  starting  of  the  night 
express  on  the  Grand  Trunk  Road  ;  but,  as  the  train  from 
the  East  had  not  arrived,  ours  Avas  kept  waiting.  After  a 
delay  of  an  hour  and  a  half,  we  had  our  beds  made  and 
went  to  sleep.  Somewhere  near  midnight,  I  heard  the 
noise  of  departure,  mingled  with  the  swearing  of  various 
western  passengers,  who  were  anxious  to  reach  Milwaukee 
by  Sunday  morning.  There  was  no  additional  delay  on  the 
road,  however,  and  on  reaching  Toronto  the  next  day  at 
noon,  the  train  for  Sarnia  was  found  waiting  in  the  same 
obliging  manner.  The  scenery  through  which  the  road 
passes  is  rather  tame,  with  the  exception  of  the  last  divi- 
sion, along  the  shores  of  Lake  Ontario,  where  many  a 
charming  little  bay  opens  out  between  low,  wooded  head- 
lands and  discloses  the  blue  water  horizon. 

I  have  been  interested,  during  the  w^hole  progress  of  this 
trip,  in  observing  the  manners  and  peculiarities  of  travellers 
from  different  portions  of  the  United  States.  It  is  not  dif- 
ficult to  distinguish,  after  a  little  practice,  those  who  come 
from  Xew-England,  New- York,  Philadelphia,  the  South, 
and  the  West.  The  highest  cultivation,  of  course,  is  that 
which  casts  off  all  local  characteristics,  and  impresses  you 
with  the  stamp  of  an  individuality  independent  of  place, 
profession,  or  even  nationality.  Such  persons  may  be  found 
in  all  portions  of  our  country,  but  they  are  rare  apparitions. 
Nine  men  out  of  every  ten  whom  you  meet  have  an  odor 
of  their  native  soil  about  them. 


TRAVELS    AT   HOME.  389 

The  New-England  tourist  has  a  grave,  respectable  air. 
He  is  slightly  petulant  with  regard  to  accommodations, 
charges,  food,  and  the  like.  His  face  is  generally  thin  (the 
lips  particularly  so),  rarely  bearded,  his  voice  even  and  of 
little  depth  or  compass,  and  his  language  marked  with  a 
certain  precision,  betraying  a  consciousness  of,  or  at  least  a 
belief  in,  its  accuracy.  Sometimes  he  wears  gold-rimmed 
spectacles.  He  does  not  insist  upon  an  introduction  before 
speaking  to  a  fellow-traveller,  but  he  speaks  with  a  calm 
decorum,  which  says  :  "  I  am  a  very  proper  person  for  you 
to  know."  This  is  his  outward  shell.  Under  it  you  will 
find  a  good  deal  of  solid  information,  a  fair  capacity  for 
enjoyment,  positive  opinions  (rather  too  much  so,  perhaps,) 
on  all  subjects,  and  a  genuine  appreciation  of  Nature. 
He  is  by  no  means  the  worst  companion  you  could  have 
on  a  journey. 

The  New-Yorker  is  mellower  and  more  demonstrative. 
He  is  also  more  flexible  in  his  nature,  fraternizes  more 
readily  with  others,  and  is  less  precise,  both  in  person  and 
speech.  His  language  is  not  so  carefully  chosen,  but  his 
voice  has  more  variety  of  modulation.  He  dresses  well, 
and  affects  a  careless  elegance  of  appearance.  He  gene- 
rally possesses  his  own  private  enthusiasm  for  something  or 
other,  which  he  is  not  afraid  to  display.  His  philological 
peculiarity  lies  in  voice  rather  than  in  accent,  though  he 
says  doo  instead  of  dite^  etc.  (understand,  I  am  speaking  of 
the  average  man),  rather  oftener  than  the  New-Englander. 
He  also  pronounces  the  a  in  palni^  />ass,  etc.,  a  little  closer. 
He  makes 'acquaintances  with  ease,  and  forgets  them,  ditto. 
He  has  his  opinions,  but  as  he  is  not  certain  that  he  may 


390  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

Dot  change  them  some  time,  can  listen  cheerfully  to  con- 
trary views. 

The  Philadelphian,  in  the  primness  of  his  deportment, 
resembles  the  New-Englander.  The  Quaker  and  the  Puri- 
tanic elements  have  this  point  of  contact.  There  is  this 
diiference,  however :  you  will  not  hear  the  Philadelphian 
talk  fifteen  minutes  without  his  tnentioning  Philadelphia. 
His  face,  though  generally  thin,  has  also  a  warmer  color, 
and  his  mouth  more  of  the  Southern  fulness.  Yet,  notwith- 
standing this,  there  is  something  pinched  and  contracted  in 
his  personality,  which  I  find  difficult  to  describe.  Perhaps 
it  lies  mainly  in  his  voice,  which  is  thin  and  sharp.  He 
pronounces  the  a  in  palm.)  calm.^  and  kindred  words,  like 
the  a  in  hat.  He  also  snubs  all  the  short  vowels,  saying 
promus,  spirut,  niornl,  niod%  &c. — which,  by-the-by,  is  an 
inelegance  very  general  in  the  United  States.  I  have  even 
heard  some  jjersons  affect  an  elegance  by  changing  the 
short  vowels  into  short  «,  as  moril,  gospil,  iffectuil!  The 
Philadelphian  has  much  quiet  warmth  of  character.  He  is 
a  good  friend  and  a  hospitable  host.  Though  not  so  free 
and  easy  in  his  intercourse  as  a  New-Yorker,  it  does  not 
require  a  hard  knock  to  open  his  shell. 

There  are  two  classes  of  Southern  tourists.  The  first, 
which  you  occasionally  meet,  exhibit  a  rare  refinement  of 
character.  The  gentlehian  of  this  class  is  quiet,  cultivated, 
earnest — a  little  exacting,  perhaps — and  a  specimen  of  that 
genuine  good  breeding,  which  is  natural  and  unconscious, 
and  hence  never  makes  a  mistake.  The  other  variety, 
which  is  very  common,  is  marked  by  a  bold,  swaggering 
air,  neglects  no  opportunity  of  assertion,  and  is  morbidly 


TRAVELS  AT   HO>rE.  391 

alert  to  discover  some  ground  of  offence.  It  is  a  curious 
fact  that,  during  this  trip,  whenever  I  have  heard  loud  and 
coarse  conversation  in  railroad-cars,  swearing  at  hotel  tables, 
or  impertinent  or  offensive  criticism  of  the  place  or  country, 
the  parties  proved,  in  every  instance,  to  be  Southerners ! 
'If  the  features  of  the  Southern  tourist  did  not  proclaim  his 
nativity,  his  voice  would  at  once  betray  him.  His  accent 
almost  invariably  betrays  the  fact  that  he  has  played  with 
young  darkies,  as  a  child.  He  not  only  says — xohar  and 
ihar — very  often  whah  and  tliah — but  pore  and  shore  (for 
poor^  sure),  and  generally  drops  the  r  altogether,  after  the 
manner  of  an  English  exquisite.  He  cannot  say  "  master'''' 
without  an  effort.  When  I  Avas  in  the  Navy,  a  Virginia 
captain  always  called  me  "  maus'  mate''*  (master's  mate). 
The  other  day  I  was  profoundly  surprised  at  hearing  a 
young  lady,  of  a  distinguished  Southern  family,  say : 
"  H''yah''s  the  d6  /"  Some  persons  pretend  to  admire  this, 
affirming  that  it  gives  a  softness  to  the  language — which  is 
true ;  but  it  is  too  soft  altogether. 

The  Southerner — refined  or  vulgar — always  has  this  to 
recommend  him,  that  he  is  free,  frank,  and  companionable, 
perfectly  unreserved  in  the  expression  of  his  opinions,  though 
his  manner  be  a  little  arrogant,  and  wholly  impulsive  and 
uncalculating.  He  will  fight  and  be  reconciled  with  you 
ten  times,  while  the  New-Englander  is  slowly  making  his 
way  to  a  single,  life-long  enmity. 

The  Westeril  man  may  be  pretty  correctly  described,  if 
you  know  the  latitude  in  which  he  lives.  New-England  is 
reproduced  in  Northern  Ohio,  Michigan,  and  "Wisconsin  ; 
New  York  in  Chicago  and  Iowa ;  Pennsylvania  in  Southern 


392  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

Ohio  and  the  States  west,  in  the  same  line ;  and  Virginia 
and  Kentucky  in  Southern  Illinois  and  Missouri.  He  has 
no  especial  characteristics  except  a  certain  restlessness  in 
his  manner  and  an  expansive  use  of  adjectives  in  his  talk. 
He  has  a  great  habit  of  saying,  "That's  so!"  and  his  loca- 
tion is  denoted  by  the  use  of  peculiar  words  and  phrases 
rather  than  any  distinctive  peculiarity  of  accent.  He  has  a 
rampant  pride  in  his  own  particular  city,  and  county,  and 
state,  and  our  Atlantic  communities  seem  "  slow"  to  him. 
He  is  the  most  demonstrative  of  Americans,  and  you  never 
need  to  ask  a  second  time  for  his  opinion.  He,  as  well  as 
the  Southerner,  is  apt  to  chew  tobacco,  and  he  prefers 
Bourbon  to  Verzenay.  He  does  not  object«to  a  community 
of  towel  and  hair-brush  in  hotels — ^in  fact,  he  is  easily  satis- 
fied, and  generally  of  a  very  "cheerful  and  jovial  tempera- 
ment. 

I  have  only  given  a  few  general  indications,  and  wish  it 
to  be  distinctly  understood  that  they  are  meant  for  classes, 
and  not  individuals.  The  manners  of  the  travelling  public 
have  greatly  improved  since  I  made  my  fii-st  summer  trip, 
thirteen  years  ago,  and  in  this  particular  there  is  not  much 
diifereuce  between  the  different  sections  of  the  country: 
the  provincialisms  of  speech  and  habits,  however,  are  not  so 
easily  obliterated. 

We  stopped  at  Toronto  in  order  to  take  the  afternoon 
boat  across  the  lake  to  Lewiston.  Our  baggage  having 
"been  sent  to  the  landing-place  half  an  hour  before  the 
departure  of  the  steamer,  we  were  called  upon  to  pay  a 
wharfage  fee  of  twenty  cents.  "  If  you  had  come  in  a  car- 
riage," said  the  agent  (or  whoever  he  was),  "  there  would 


TRAVELS   AT  HOME.  393 

have  been  no  charge  I"     This  is  a  refinement  of  extortion 
worthy  of  a  better  field  of  action. 

A  mirage  lifted  the  southern  shore  of  the  Ontario  to 
view,  so  clearly  that  we  could  distinguish  single  trees.  A 
gentleman  informed  me  that  the  spray-cloud  of  Niagara  is 
sometimes  visible  at  Toronto.  We  had  a  lovely  but  windy 
afternoon  for  the  transit,  and  the  beryl-colored  waters  of 
the  lake  were  so  rough  that  a  pale  and  wretched  looking 
crowd  appeared  on  the  deck,  as  we  ran  into  the  mouth  of 
Niagara  River.  I  was  glad  for  the  sake  of  my  friends,  that 
we  had  chosen  this  avenue  of  approach  to  the  Falls.  The 
picturesque  shores  of  the  river,  the  splendid  green  of  the 
water,  and  the  lofty  line  of  the  upper  plateau  in  front, 
crowned  with  Brock's  Monument,  and  divided  by  the  dark, 
yawning  gorge  of  Niagara,  form  a  fitting  vestibule  to  the 
grand  adytum  beyond.  The  railroad,  climbing  rapidly 
from  the  station  behind  Lewiston,  piercing  the  rocky  bluff 
and  boldly  skirting  the  tremendous  abyss,  commands  a 
complete  view  of  the  river — with  the  exception  of  the  bend 
at  the  Whirlpool — from  the  lake  to  the  Falls.  The  chasm 
grows  wilder,  deeper,  and  more  precipitous  with  every 
mile,  until  having  seen  the  Suspension  Bridge  apparently 
floating  in  air,  on  your  right,  you  look  ahead,  and  two 
miles  ofif,  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  emerald  crest  of  Niagara 
standing  fast  and  fixed  above  its  shifting  chaos  of  snowy 
spray  ! 

I  have  seen  the  Falls  in  all  weathers,  and  in  all  seasons, 
but  to  my  mind  the  winter  view  is  most  beautiful.  I  saw 
them  first  during  the  hard  winter  of  1854,  when  a  hundred 
cataracts  of  ice  hung  from  the  cliffs  on  either  side,  when 

17* 


394  AT    HOME    A>«D    ABKOAl). 

the  masses  of  ice  brought  down  from  Lake  Erie  were 
wedged  together  at  the  foot,  uniting  the  shores  with  a 
rugged  bridge,  and  when  every  twig  of  every  tree  and 
bush  on  Goat  Island  was  overlaid,  an  inch  deep,  with  a 
coating  of  solid  crystal.  The  air  was  still,  and  the  sun 
shone  in  a  cloudless  sky.  The  green  of  the  fall,  set  in  a 
landscape  of  sparkling  silver,  was  infinitely  more  brilliant 
than  in  summer,  when  it  is  balanced  by  the  trees,  and  the 
rainbows  were  almost  too  glorious  for  the  eye  to  bear.  I 
was  not  impressed  by  the  sublimity  of  the  scene,  nor  even 
by  its  terror,  but  solely  by  the  fascination  of  its  wonderful 
beauty — a  fascination  which  continually  tempted  me  to 
plunge  into  that  sea  of  fused  emerald  and  lose  myself  in 
the  dance  of  the  rainbows.  With  each  succeeding  visit, 
Niagara  has  grown  in  height,  in  power,  in  majesty,  in 
solemnity ;  but  I  have  seen  its  climax  of  beauty. 

To  my  friends,  it  is  all  they  had  been  promised,  and 
more;  and  I  have  enjoyed  anew,  in  their  enjoyment,  the 
views  from  the  rocks,  the  delicious  walks  on  Goat  Island, 
the  bewildering  pictures  of  the  rapids,  and  the  stunning 
roar  and  ceaseless  rain  at  the  bottom.  I  watched  by  the 
hour,  the  piling  up  and  sliding  away  of  the  huge  masses  of 
water,  the  downward  blossoming  into  vast,  umbelliferous 
flowers  of  spray,  the  cloudy  whirl  and  confusion  below, 
and  the  endless,  endless  motion  through  the  same  unchang- 
ing forms,  with  a  delight,  which,  it  seems  to  me,  could  not 
be  wearied  out  in  a  lifetime.  Of  course,  we  have  taken  a 
trip  in  the  "  Maid  of  the  Mist,"  gone  behind  the  sheet,  and 
done  everything  else  that  is  usually  done  (and  let  me  say, 
all  of  thera  are  Avorth  doing).    Niagara  is  a  diamond  with  a 


TRAVELS   AT   HOME.  895 

hundred  facets,  every  one  of  which  reflects  a  different 
lustre. 

One  is  rather  bored  here  by  the  Indian  curiosities  and 
the  soUcitous  hack-drivers.  The  articles  in  fluor  spar,  how- 
ever, are  beautiful,  and  the  photographic  illustrations  are 
commendable.  The  gratitude  of  every  visitor  is  due  to 
Mr.  Porter,  and  the  other  proprietors  of  Goat  Island,  for 
the  pious  care  with  which  its  glorious  sylvan  beauty  is  pre- 
served. Fancy  Goat  Island  given  up  to  speculators,  and 
crammed  with  hotels  and  factories  !  I  have  now  and  then 
seen  an  ill-natured  remark,  on  account  of  the  moderate 
toll  charged  for  crossing  the  bridge ;  but  the  entire  amount 
received  in  this  manner  cannot  much  more  than  suffice  to 
pay  for  the  necessary  reisairs  of  the  roads,  bridges,  stair- 
cases, and  tower.  I  have  never  paid  a  fee  more  cheerfully, 
and  every  sensible  visitor  would  rather  double  it  than  see 
one  of  the  loveliest  bits  of  God's  creation  spoiled. 

It  is  a  little  singular  that  all  the  poetry  written  about 
Niagara,  from  Brainard's  pious  effusion  to  Saxe's  profane 
lyric,  should  be  so  common-place.  The  best  of  all  is  that 
of  Lord  Carlisle.     Biainard  commences  awkwardly  : — 

"  The  thoughts  are  strange  that  crowd  into  my  brain, 
As  I  gaze  upward  to  thee." 

What  good  does  it  to  us,  simply  to  know  that  his 
thoughts  are  "  strange  ?  "  Grenville  Mellen  concludes  a 
similar  rhapsody  by  exclaiming :  "  Oh,  go  in !"  Very 
well :  but  suppose  you  set  us  the  example !  Mr.  Bulkley 
has  written  an  epic,  which  is  too  much  on  the  subject.  If 
it  were  boiled  down  to  two  hundred  lines,  we  should  get  a 


396  .    AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

good  concentrated  flavor.  The  distinguishing  characteristic 
of  Niagara — its  color — has  been  mentioned,  I  believe,  by 
but  one  poet,  Lowell,  who  says — 

"  And  green  Niagara's  never-ending  roar." 

As  for  people  saying  "  It  cannot  be  described,"  that  is 
folly.  It  can  be  described  just  as  much  as  anything  else. 
But  those  who  endeavor  to  be  sublime  are  often  simply 
highfalutin :  when  a  man  says,  "  I  am  overpowered,"  he  is 
not  in  a  fit  state  to  write ;  but  he  who  looks  calmly  upon 
it,  measures  its  features,  analyses  the  impression  which  it 
ci'eates,  and  writes  with  the  conscientious  endeavor  to 
represent  what  he  has  seen,  can  give  as  good  a  description 
of  Niagara  as  he  could  of  a  crab-tree  in  blossom,  and  a 
much  better  one  than  it  would  be  possible  for  him  to  make 
of  the  woman  whom  he  loves. 

I  read  last  Winter,  in  one  of  the  papers,  a  most  admirable 
description  of  the  falling  of  the  water,  entitled,  "  Niagara, 
but  Not  Described !"  The  writer  knew  all  the  time  he 
was  describing  it. 


8. — Trenton  Falls  and  Saratoga. 

At  Niagara  our  party  dissolved.  On  Tuesday  night  my 
German  friend  took  the  midnight  train  westward,  intend- 
ing to  visit  Minnesota,  Missouri,  and  Kentucky,  and  on  the 
following  morning  accompanying  the  ladies  as  far  as  Utica, 
whence  they  continued  the  homeward  journey,  I  turned 
aside  for  a  solitary  excursion  to  Trenton  Falls. 


TRAVELS    AT    HOME.  397 

The  New  York  Central,  after  leaving  the  Mohawk  Val- 
ley, seems  to  avoid  all  the  best  scenery,  I  have  frequently 
noticed  how  completely  the  landscapes  change,  when  yon 
have  gone  but  a  few  miles  either  to  the  north  or  the  south 
of  the  road.  The  immediate  neighborhood  of  Utica  is 
rather  tame,  but,  on  taking  the  Black  River  train  it  pre- 
sently assumes  a  charming  pastoral  character,  which  verges 
into  the  picturesque  as  you  approach  Trenton.  In  an  hour 
I  was  put  down  at  the  station,  where  omnibuses  were  in 
waiting  to  carry  us  to  Moore's  Hotel,  a  mile  distant.  "  Is 
the  hotel  full  ?"  I  asked  of  the  driver.  "  Oh,  no,"  said  he  ; 
"  there  is  plenty  of  room ;"  but,  on  arriving,  I  found  it 
ovei'flowing  with  guests,  and  no  place  to  be  had.  I  was 
fortunate  enough,  however,  to  find  quarters  at  Joy's,  near 
at  hand,  and  after  admiring  the  beauty  and  seclusion  of 
the  valley  for  half  an  hour,  set  out  in  search  of  my  friend 
Hicks. 

It  was  the  night  of  the  full  moon,  and  the  guests  at 
Moore's  had  sent  to  the  Wide-Awake  Club  of  Utica  to 
borrow  torches  for  a  nocturnal  visit  to  the  glen.  Mr. 
Moore,  whose  acquaintance  I  had  made  in  Hicks's  studio, 
the  artist  and  his  wife,  and  a  merry  company  of  at  least  a 
hundred  ladies  and  gentlemen,  were  preparing  to  go,  and  I 
congratulated  myself  on  arriving  in  season  to  join  them. 
AYe  started  a  little  after  nine  o'clock,  taking  the  path 
which  leads  through  the  forest  to  the  top  of  the  High  Fall. 
The  straggling  procession,  at  least  two  hundred  yards 
long,  with  its  line  of  brilliant  lights,  winding  through  the 
dense  shadows  of  the  wood,  produced  a  magical  effect. 
Gray  trunks  and  hanging  boughs  flashed  out  for  a  moment 


398  AT   HOME    AND    ABUOAD. 

in  golden  lustre  against  the  darkness,  and  then  as  suddenly 
vanished  ;  red  shawls  glimmered  splendidly  through  the 
dusky  green ;  white  dresses  danced  in  and  out  of  the  gaps 
of  moonlight  with  an  elfish  motion,  and  a  confusion  of 
shouts  and  laughter  rang  through  the  echoing  hollows. 

The  moon  stood  over  the  gorge,  which,  as  we  approached, 
seemed  filled  with  a  silvery  mist,  beyond  which  rose  the 
shadowy  outline  of  the  opposite  bank.  The  crest  of  the 
cataract  shone  with  spai-kles  of  white  fire,  and  dim,  shoot- 
ing gleams  hovered  over  the  gulf  into  which  it  fell.  The 
leaves  of  the  overhanging  boughs  were  cut  as  clearly  as 
bronze  against  this  wonderful  picture.  It  was  lovely 
enough  to  have  been  a  grot  in  the  gardens  of  Calypso  or 
Armida.  Many  of  the  company  went  down  the  rocks  to 
the  foot  of  the  fall,  and  saw  it  through  the  rainbows  of  the 
moon  ;  but  1  preferred  preserving  my  first  view  until  sun- 
rise. 

The  next  morning  I  accompanied  the  artist  in  a  ramble 
over  his  farm,  which  lies  on  the  eastern  side  of  Canada 
Creek  about  half  a  mile  below  the  village.  We  com- 
pared agricultural  notes,  and  set  off  the  advantages  of  our 
respective  farms,  one  against  the  other.  I  was  willing 
to  concede  the  superiority  of  his  elms  and  hemlocks,  but 
balanced  them  with  my  oaks  and  tulip  trees.  His  potatoes 
and  pumpkins  looked  promising,  but  I  had  very  fine 
squashes  and  tomatoes  at  home.  I  had,  moreover,  the 
climate  of  the  passion-flower  and  magnolia,  of  the  Hima- 
layan deodar,  the  Cedar  of  Lebanon,  and  the  cypress.  So, 
although  I  admired  the  fine  curves  of  the  surrounding 
hills,   the   excellence  of  the  tree-forms,  and,  most  of  all, 


TRAVELS    AT   HOME.  399 

the  aniber  beauty  of  the  river,  I  was  well  satisfied  with  my 
own  piece  of  earth.  So  was  he  with  his,  and  with  good 
reason. 

We  then  made  the  round  of  the  Falls,  entering  the  glen 
from  below,  and  ascending  it  for  a  distance  of  nearly  two 
miles,  to  a  point  marked  "Dangerous,"  beyond  which 
there  is  no  path.  It  was  the  loveliest  possible  day — one  of 
those  bright,  laughing  days  which  give  an  additional  color 
and  sparkle  to  the  earth.  The  sun  was  high  enough  to 
illuminate  the  deep  glen  from  end  to  end,  leaving  shadows 
only  where  the  rocks  overhung  their  bases,  or  the  trees 
reached  their  arms  from  opposite  sides,  as  if  vainly  striving 
to  clasp  hands.  The  water,  also,  was  at  its  most  favorable 
stage — low  enough  to  leave  the  path  bare,  yet  high  enough  to 
cover  the  whole  breadth  of  rocky  ledges  where  it  falls. 
With  a  guide  who  had  studied  the  glen  for  ten  years  with 
an  artist's  eye,  and  knew  it  in  all  its  aspects,  I  was  justified 
in  considering  that  I  saw  Trenton  under  the  most  favor- 
able circumstances. 

What  particularly  struck  me  was  the  originality — ^the 
uniquity  of  the  place.  The  glen,  or  rather  crack,  through 
which  the  stream  runs,  is  three  miles  long,  and  not  more 
than  two  hundred  feet  deep  at  any  point.  It  has  been  cut, 
by  the  action  of  water  during  thousands  of  years,  through 
a  bed  of  mica  slate,  disposed  in  nearly  horizontal  strata. 
The  sides,  therefore,  while  they  are  perpendicular  for  near- 
ly the  whole  distance,  present  a  great  number  of  shelves  or 
ledges,  which  furnish  root-hold  to  ferns,  wild  flowers,  shrubs, 
or  even  trees,  according  to  their  size,  while  an  unbroken 
wood — a  charminsc  mixture  of  evergreen  and  deciduous 


400  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

trees — crowns  the  summits.  Add  that  the  glen  is  full  of 
corners,  turning  this  way  and  that,  leading  you  now  into 
black  cauldrons,  wet  with  eternal  spray,  now  into  long, 
sunny  avenues,  where  the  water  dances  as  if  possessed  with 
the  spirit  of  joy,  and  you  may  judge  what  a  gallery  of  wild 
and  lovely  pictures  is  here  concealed. 

The  color  of  the  water,  again,  is  an  unusual  element  of 
beauty.  "Amber"  perha^js  describes  it  better  than  any 
other  word,  but  it  runs  through  all  tints  from  topaz  to  the 
richest  and  deepest  Yandyke-brown.  Maria  Lowell,  in  one 
of  her  poems,  calls  it  "  fretted  Sherry."  In  the  falls,  the 
color  has  a  warm,  glassy  lustre  at  the  top,  shading  off 
through  the  successive  frills  of  spray,  until  it  vanishes  into 
white  at  the  bottom.  Owing  to  this  color,  the  water 
appears  to  assume  an  astonishing  variety  of  forms,  but  I 
presume  it  is  only  because  the  forms  are  distinctly  marked, 
more  apparent  to  the  eye.  I  have  noticed  the  same  effect 
in  the  bright,  green  water  of  the  Trollhatta  Fall,  in  Swe- 
den. To  be  sure,  the  angles  of  the  glen  and  the  various 
positions  in  which  the  rocky  shelves  are  disposed,  are  suffi- 
cient to  produce  every  form  of  water,  except  that  airy 
lace-work  which  is  only  seen  in  falls  of  great  height.  Here 
it  falls  forty  feet  in  one  unbroken  sheet ;  there  slides  down 
an  inclined  plane  in  a  smooth  mass  splendidly  feathered  at 
the  edges,  shoots  under  or  over  another  watery  slide,  or 
whirls  in  gleaming  curves  around  a  semi-basin  worn  in  the 
rocks. 

Some  of  the  visitors  spoke  of  the  rage  of  the  water.  To 
me  it  was  not  rage,  but  joy — a  mad  Bacchanalian  revel ; 
and  the  resemblance  to  wine  strengthened  the  impression. 


TRAVELS    AT   HOME.  401 

The  path,  which  has  the  fascinating  appearance  of  danger, 
without  being  dangerous,  leads  you  along  narrow  ledges,  on 
the  very  verge  of  the  whirlpools  and  cauldrons ;  so  near 
the  falls,  that  the  rainbow  surrounds  you  like  a  dazzling 
gossamer,  and  its  red  and  gold  smite  you  in  the  eyes.  The 
tourists  and  guide-books  make  comparisons  between  Tren- 
ton and  Niagara,  but  no  comparison  is  possible.  They  are 
as  unlike  as  Homer  and  Anacreon. 

I  went  further,  the  next  day,  simply  to  have  one  look  at 
the  Summer  life  of  Saratoga :  "  To  see  the  stir,  and  not 
feel  the  crowd.''  I  find  it  delightfully  gay  and  pleasant  to 
look  \ipon,  and  can  easily  understand  why  the  fashionable 
world  continues  to  drink  of  Congress  Water,  in  spite  of  the 
superior  natural  attractions  of  other  places.  The  park  is 
agreeable,  the  springs  unequalled  of  their  kind,  the  drives 
in  the  neighborhood  charming,  the  lake  accessible,  and,  not 
least,  the  hotels  can  accommodate  their  thousands  without 
crowding.  The  village  itself  is  hot  and  dusty,  but  there  is 
shade  everywhere ;  and  the  long  colonnades  of  the  hotel 
furnish  the  ladies  with  an  enviable  opportunity  for  dis- 
play, I  think  I  could  spend  an  entire  week  here  without 
getting  tired. 

I  have  done  nothing  but  walk  up  and  down  and  contem- 
plate the  multitude.  In  this  survey  two  things  have  parti- 
cularly struck  me — the  absence  of  marked  intelligence  or 
cultivation  in  the  faces  of  the  gentlemen,  and  the  absence 
of  beauty  in  the  faces  of  the  ladies.  Among  the  former, 
the  trading  and  stock-jobbing  type  predominates.  There  is 
speculation  in  the  eyes,  railroad  bonds  are  written  upon 
the  brow,  and  mortgages  are  buttoned  tightly  under  the 


402  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

waistcoat,  on  the  left  side.  In  the  fragments  of  conversa- 
tion which  reached  my  ears,  one  of  the  words  "  stocks," 
"  Board,"  "  pai*,"  "  Douglas,"  "  Breckenridge,"  or  "  Lin- 
coln," invariably  occurred.  Black  is  the  prevailing  color. 
The  cool,  light  tints,  so  well  adapted  for  the  negligee  of  a 
Avatering-place,  are  very  rare.  The  hats  are  mostly  of  the 
stove-pipe  pattern.  In  short,  the  aspect  of  the  male  crowd 
shows  that  a  struggle  is  going  on  between  the  desire  for 
recreation  and  the  endeavor  to  retain  the  old,  respectable, 
hard-money  air. 

The  ladies,  to  my  sui'prise,  are  not  gorgeously  over- 
dressed. Here  and  there  you  see  a  dame  at  the  Congress 
Springs  in  moire  and  jewels,  but  the  majority  affect  an  ele- 
gant simplicity  which  is  highly  becoming.  At  a  hop  last 
evening  I  found  much  more  taste  in  costume  than  I  had 
anticipated.  Yet  as  I  said  before,  there  is  a  striking  ab- 
sence of  beauty.  I  see  many  pleasant  and  some  handsome 
faces,  but  very,  very  few  wliich  can  be  called  beautiful.  In 
such  a  Vanity  F'air  as  this,  I  had  supposed  that  the  reverse 
would  have  been  true.  Saratoga  is  our  Ranelagli,  but  the 
stock  on  hand  this  year  may  be  inferior  to  that  of  ordinary 
seasons.  There  is  possibly  less  demand,  as  one  notices  little 
flirtation  going  on. 

As  for  the  manners  of  such  a  place,  tliere  is  not  much  to 
be  said.  You  find  all  the  classes — the  refined,  the  snobbish, 
and  the  vulgar — which  enter  into  the  composition  of  all 
society.  The  rich  families  have  the  best  rooms  and  are  best 
served  at  the  table  (tliey  fee  the  waiters  heaviest) ;  the 
more  moderate  take  the  odds  and  ends  of  accommodation; 
there  are  clans  and  cliques  and  jealousies  as  elsewhere;  con- 


TEAVELS    AT   HOME.  403 

quests  and  triumphs,  hatred,  fidelity,  inGdelity,  love,  mar- 
riage, divorce  and  death.  The  tragedy  of  life  dances  in 
the  same  set  with  its  comedy.  The  gentlemen  have  their 
side  of  the  veranda,  where  they  sit  in  arm-chairs,  read  the 
New  York  papers,  smoke,  and  cock  up  their  feet  on  the 
railing  ;  and  the  ladies  theirs,  where  they  spread  their  ten- 
der-tinted skirts,  flutter  their  fans,  bend  their  swan-like 
necks,  and  exchange  sweet  inuendoes.  Outwardly,  all  is 
gay,  innocent,  cheerful,  fashionably  Arcadian  (which  con- 
sists in  turning  all  out-of-doors  into  a  drawing-room) — but 
I  could  wish,  for  my  own  private  benefit,  that,  as  in  the 
shapes  of  the  Hall  of  Eblis,  there  w-as  a  pane  of  glass  in- 
serted in  every  bosom,  showing  the  currents  of  the  true 
and  hidden  life.  I  have  no  doubt  that  I  should  find — mak- 
ing all  allowance  for  education  and  associations — Human 
Nature. 

I  have  said  that  this  crowd  is  delightful  to  look  upon.   So 
it  is ;  but  we  all  enjoy  the  vanities  of  the  world. 


VI. 

PERSONAL  SKETCHES. 


1. — The  Leslies. 

One  of  the  first  stories  1  remember  to  have  read,  as  a 
child,  was  "  Mrs,  Washington  Potts,"  by  Miss  Eliza  Leslie. 
It  was  in  the  days  when  "Atkinson's  Casket"  flourished, 
and  The  Saturday ^Joening  Post  was  considered  a  standard 
literary  paper — at  least  among  the  people  whom  I  knew. 
Miss  Leslie  had  then  been  known  for  many  years  as  a  writer 
of  stories,  which,  from  their  covert  humor  and  their  plain, 
homely  presentation  of  everyday  characters,  were  very 
generally  popular.  Her  model — if  she  had  one — must  have 
been  Maria  Edgeworth,  but  she  had  a  fund  of  humor,  and 
an  appreciation  of  the  comic  and  the  grotesque,  which  was 
all  her  own.  Something  of  Flemisli  fidelity  belonged  to  her 
descriptive  style,  but  it  was  always  subordinate  to  her  taste. 
Though  she  often  introduced  vulgar  characters,  she  never 
described  them  vulgarly.     I  have  never  since  been  more 


PEBSONAL   SKETCHES.  405 

amused  and  entertained  by  any  stories  than  by  those  from 
her  pen,  which  I  read  in  my  boyhood,  as  they  appeared  in 
the  weekly  paper. 

In  1844,  when  I  became  ambitious  to  make  myself  known 
as  an  author,  and  published  a  thin  volume  of  untimely 
poems,  Miss  Leslie  was  one  of  the  first  persons  to  whom  I 
sent  a  copy,  and  her  cordial  letter  in  acknowledgment  was 
one  of  the  fii'st  voices  of  encouragement  which  reached  me. 
She  treated  my  first  crude  efforts  moi'e  kindly  and  conside- 
rately than,  I  fear,  I  should  be  able  to  do,  in  a  similar  case. 
With  this  admission,  I  venture  to  quote  a  passage  frdm  her 
letter : 

"  Whenever  I  meet  with  any  new  evidence  of  the  genius 
of  my  countrymen,  it  renders  me  superlatively  happy  for 
that  day,  and,  fortunately,  these  days  of  happiness  are  be- 
coming more  and  more  numerous.  So,  in  reading  your 
book,  I  rejoiced  that  there  was 

One  poet  more,  America,  for  thee  I' 

"  When  you  again  visit  Philadelphia,  I  shall  be  very  glad 
to  see  you  at  the  Markoe  House  (my  present  residence), 
and  to  show  you  an  admirable  portrait  of  Franklin,  copied 
from  the  last  and  best  likeness  of  the  statesman,  the  patriot, 
the  philosopher,  and  the  printer :  the  man  who  has  always 
seemed  to  me  as  the  most  American  of  Americans — or 
rather,  who  was  completely  what  an  American  ought 
to  be." 

When  I  next  visited  Philadelphia,  I  called  upon  her,  and 
was  received  with  genuine  kindness.  She  was  then  nearly 
sixty  years  of  age,  but  hale  and  robust,  with  a  face  attrac- 


406  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD, 

live  in  spite  of  its  plainness,  and  a  cheerful,  merry  light  in 
her  gray  eyes.  Something  I  said  suggested  to  her  a 
humorous  story,  which  she  told  with  a  hearty  relish.  The 
portrait  of  Franklin  was  painted  by  her  sister  Anne,  and 
she  remarked,  on  stating  this :  "  We  are  a  family  of  paint- 
ers. Perhaps  you  have  heard  of  my  brother  Charles,  who 
lives  in  London."  It  chanced  that  I  had  seen  engravings 
of  Leslie's  pictures  from  Don  Quixote  and  the  Merry 
"Wives  of  Windsor,  but  I  was  not  before  aware  of  the 
relationship. 

Miss  Leslie  gave  me  some  friendly,  advice  in  relation  to 
poetry,  which  was  another  illustration  of  her  sound  sense. 
"I  see,"  said  she,  "  that  you  have  been  reading  Mrs.Hemans, 
Pray  don't  be  led  by  her  irregular  anapaestic  metres  to  for- 
get that  the  simplest  forms  of  versification  are  the  best. 
Those  jingling,  slipshod  measures  seem  to  me  to  have  been 
invented  to  conceal  the  lack  of  poetical  conceptions.  Look 
at  Milton,  Pope,  Gray,  and  Goldsmith,  how  simple  and 
straightforward  are  their  styles !  The  plainest  words  are 
also  the  best.  '  England'  is  much  finer  than  '  Albion,'  and 
'  Scotland'  than  '  Caledonia.' "  Of  course,  I  did  not  quite 
agree  with  her,  then  ;  but  the  evident  kindness  with  which 
her  views  were  presented  led  me  to  ponder  upon  them  after- 
wards, and  to  find  that  she  was  right. 

After  my  return  from  Europe  in  1846,  I  visited  her  fre- 
quently. Among  our  passengers  in  the  packet  from 
London  through  the  Channel  to  Portsmouth,  had  been 
Mr.  Robert  Leslie,  son  of  the  painter,  and  himself  a  painter 
also.  He  was  a  tall  young  man  of  twenty-two,  and  spent 
most  of  his  time  on  dock,  making  sea-sketches  in  water- 


PERSONAL    SKETCHES.  407 

colors.  Our  captain,  Morgan,  had  taken  the  Leslie  family 
to  and  from  America,  when  the  painter  received  his  appoint- 
ment to  the  Professorship  at  West  Point,  and  was  still  his 
intimate  friend.  Miss  Leslie  had  therefore  many  questions 
to  ask  concerning  her  nephew,  but  in  the  same  summer,  I 
believe,  he  visited  America,  In  February,  1847,  she  wrote 
to  me :  "  I  hear  you  are  publishing  a  weekly  paper.  You 
will  please  to  send  it  to  my  address :  I  inclose  the  amount 
of  a  year's  subscription."  It  was  a  country  paper,  devoted 
to  local  news,  and  could  have  no  possible  interest  for  her — 
but  she  doubtless  conjectured,  as  was  true,  that  I  was 
endeavoring  to  establish  myself  in  business,  and  that  every 
2yaid  subscription  was  a  real  assistance,  I  have  heard  that 
she  made  enemies  by  her  frankness  and  her  scorn  of  all  dis- 
simulation :  she  reserved  her  tact  for  the  exercise  of  her 
kindness. 

Between  five  and  six  years  later,  I  was  in  London  for  the 
fourth  time,  having  just  returned  from  the  Orient,  previous 
to  making  an  overland  journey  to  India.  I  was  so  fortu- 
nate  as  to  be  present  at  an  entertainment  given  one  evening 
by  Mr.  George  Peabody,  at  which  some  hundreds  of  English 
and  Americans  attended.  While  conversing  with  Mr.  Ab- 
bott Lawrence,  a  short  and  rather  slender  man,  with  gray 
hair  and  a  singularly  mild,  pleasant,  and  benevolent  face, 
came  up  and  addressed  him  with  much  cordiality.  "  Let  me 
introduce  you  to  Mr.  Leslie,  whom  you  must  know  already 
as  an  artist,"  said  Mr.  Lawrence,  turning  to  me.  We  found 
a  little  eddy  in  the  apartment,  outside  of  the  crush  of  the 
crowd,  and  I  enjoyed  some  quiet  conversation  with  him. 
The  portrait  accompanying  the  recently  published  biogra- 


408  AT    HOME   AND    ABBOAD. 

phy  gives  the  character  and  expression  of  his  face  very  cor- 
rectly, although  he  was  considerably  older  at  the  time  I  met 
him.  All  conventionalities  were  dropped  on  his  learning 
of  the  friendship  existing  between  his  sister  and  myself,  and 
he  questioned  me  w^ith  an  eager  interest  concerning  her 
and  his  Philadelphia  friends. 

On  learning  that  I  was  a  native  of  Chester  county,  he 
said  :  "  Ah,  I  know  the  Brandywine.  I  spent  several  sum- 
mers on  its  banks,  as  a  boy."  "  Is  it  still  beautiful  to  you, 
in  memory  ?"  I  asked.  "  As  beautiful  as  the  reality  can 
possibly  be,"  was  his  answer ;  "  I  remember  the  scenery 
distinctly,  and  I  often  recall  the  happy  days  I  passed,  ram- 
bling over  the  hills."  "Do  you  not  think,"  said  I,  "that 
the  landscapes  of  that  part  of  Pennsylvania  bear  a  wonder- 
ful resemblance  to  those  of  England  ?"  "  Yes,  but  with  a 
wilder,  richer  character.  However,  it  is  many  years  since 
I  saw  them.  I  have  been  so  long  in  England  that  my  early 
life  in  America  seems  scarcely  to  belong  to  me."  From 
the  fondness  with  which  the  artist  returned  to  the  subject, 
it  was  evident  that  those  early  associations  still  retained  all 
their  charm. 

He  invited  me  to  visit  his  house  and  make  the  acquaint- 
ance of  his  family,  which  the  shortness  of  my  stay  in  Lon- 
don ])revented  me  from  doing ;  but  I  met  him,  together 
with  two  of  his  daughters,  at  the  house  of  another  Ameri- 
can banker,  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city.  His  person- 
ality gave  the  impression  of  a  very  frank  and  simple  nature, 
great  sweetness  of  disposition,  and  a  warm,  faithful  heart. 
His  voice  was  low  and  agreeable,  and  I  associate  it  some- 
liow,  in  memory,  with  that  of  Leigh  Hunt.     Between  him- 


PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  409 

self  and  his  daughters  there  was  an  affectionate  tenderness 
and  a  reciprocal  pride  which  was  delightful  to  see.  His 
life,  indeed,  was  a  smooth  stream,  having,  truly,  a  few  ob- 
stacles at  the  start,  but  flowing  afterwards  through  pleasant 
fields. 

Leslie  was  especially  fortunate  in  this  respect,  that  he 
knew  the  exact  measure  of  his  powers.  His  "  Clifibrd  and 
Rutland"  is  the  only  picture  of  his  in  the  grand  historic 
manner  which  I  have  seen — a  manner  which  he  speedily 
dropped,  devoting  himself,  thenceforth,  to  those  exquisite 
cabinet  pictures  in  which  he  had  no  living  superior.  He 
painted,  I  should  judge,  with  great  rapidity,  first  arranging 
and  afterwards  finishing,  with  scrupulous  care.  His  "  San- 
cho  Panza  and  the  Duchess"  happened  to  be  in  the  same 
room  with  Church's  "  Niagara"  in  London,  and  even  the 
dazzle  of  the  fragment  of  rahibow,  in  the  latter,  could  not 
touch  its  soft,  subtle  harmony  of  coloring. 

He  was  a  member  of  the  Sketch  Club,  the  products  of 
two  meetings  whereof  are  in  the  possession  of  Captain  Mor- 
gan, who,  as  an  honorary  member,  was  present,  and  gave 
the  subject.  This  Club  met  by  turns  at  the  houses  of  the 
members,  one  of  whom  named  a  subject,  which  the  artists 
were  obliged  to  represent  in  two  hours.  The  result  attained 
by  this  was  a  marvellous  rapidity  both  of  conception  and 
execution.  Capt.  Morgan  gave  "  Night,"  and  Leslie's  con- 
ti'ibution  is  a  very  spirited  sketch  of  Titania  and  Bottom  : 
Stanfield,  Roberts,  and  others  furnished  moonlit  landscapes. 
The  Queen,  I  was  told,  doubting  the  ability  of  the  artists 
to  improvise  with  such  rapidity,  asked  permission  to  give  a 
subject  one  evening.     The  artists  assented,  and  at  the  ap- 

18 


410  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

l^ointed  hour  received  a  slip  of  paper  on  which  the  word 
"  Desire"  was  written.  A  page  was  in  waiting,  and  two 
hours  afterwards  Her  Majesty  was  furnished  with  a  dozen 
handsome  illustrations  of  the  theme.  Leslie's,  I  believe, 
was  a  boy  reaching  from  the  edge  of  a  pond,  after  water- 
lilies. 


2. — The  Brownings. 

Few  of  the  thousands  who  now  place  the  poems  of  Eli- 
zabeth Barrett  Browning  in  the 'niche  devoted  to  their 
favorite  authors,  are  aware  that  she  first  became  known  to 
American  readers  as  a  contributor  to  Grahain's  Magazine. 
In  the  volumes  of  that  ijei'iodical  for  1841,  '42,  and  '43, 
they  will  find  her  "  Child  and  Watcher,"  "  Sleep,''  "  Cata- 
rina  to  Camoens,"  and  many  other  of  her  minor  poems. 
I  think  it  was  Poe  who  was  first  to  recognize  a  genius 
hitherto  unknown,  but  destined  to  a  speedy  and  permanent 
popularity.  Her  power  (so  rare  an  element  in  female 
poets),  fulness,  tenderness,  and  the  haunting  music  of  her 
verses,  which  an  occasional  roughness  only  made  more  pro- 
minent, were  at  once  acknowledged.  In  fact  her  American 
reputation  was  coeval  with,  if  it  did  not  precede,  that 
which  she  has  won  at  home. 

Nearly  thirteen  years  ago,  I  heard  a  young  lady,  whose 
pure  Greek  profile  and  exquisite  voice  can  never  be  forgot- 
ten by  those  who  saw  and  heard  her,  recite  "  Count  Gis- 
raond.''  The  wonderful  dramatic  truth  of  this  poem — a 
truth  which   disdains  all   explanations   and   accessories — 


PEKSONAIi   SKETCHES.  411 

Struck  me  like  a  new  revelation,  and  I  eagerly  inquired  the 
name  of  the  author.  "  It  is  a  new  English  poet,  named 
Browning,"  was  the  answer.  I  then  remembered  having 
seen  reviews  of  his  "  Bells  and  Pomegranates,"  and  "  The 
Blot  on  the  'Scutcheon,"  and  lost  no  time  in  making  myself 
acquainted  with  everything  he  liad  published  at  the  time. 
In  the  words  of  Keats, 

"  Then  felt  I,  as  some  watcher  of  the  skies, 
"When  a  new  planet  swims  into  his  ken." 

Here  was  no  half-poet,  piping  melodious  repetitions  on 
his  limited  reed,  but  a  roj-al  harper,  striking  double-handed, 
the  fullest  chords  and  the  extreraest  notes  of  the  scale  of 
human  passion.  His  very  faults  were  the  wilful  faults  of 
conscious  power ;  his  mannerism  was  no  subterfuge  to  con- 
ceal poverty  of  thought,*  but  lay  in  the  texture  of  his  mind; 
while  in  his  boldness,  his  blunt  Saxon  plainness,  and  his 
faculty  of  hitting  the  target  of  expi'ession  full  in  the  white, 
by  a  single  arrowy  word,  I  looked  in  vain  through  the 
array  of  English  authors  since  the  Elizabethan  age  to  find 
his  equal.  Many  of  his  poems  reminded  me  of  the  Day 
and  Night  of  Michael  Angelo — figures  of  immortal  beauty 
struggling  into  shape  through  the  half-chiselled  marble,  yet 
grander  in  their  incompleteness  than  the  completed  works 
of  other  sculptors.  He  tries  the  sinews  of  language,  it  is 
true ;  he  writes,  occasionally,  for  the  evident  purpose  of 
exhibiting  his  verbal  gymnastics  ("  Old  Pictures  in  Flo- 
rence," for  instance),  but  he  will  stand  the  test  which 
proves  a  true  poet — he  is  best  when  simplest  in  his  forms. 

It  is  a  curious  fact  that  while  the  first  volume  of  Alex- 


412  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

ander  Smith  (a  man  not  to  be  named  on  the  same  day  with 
Browning),  was  greeted  with  a  sale  of  20,000  copies  the 
first  year,  the  first  American  edition  of  Browning's  Poems, 
in  two  volumes,  was  not  exhausted  until  seven  years  after 
its  publication.  One  thousand  copies  in  seven  years.  The 
sale  of  the  English  edition,  in  the  same  time,  was  probably 
not  much  greater.  Of  Browning's  last  volume,  "  Men  and 
Women,"  nearly  three  thousand  copies,  I  believe,  have 
been  sold.  The  same  comparison  might  be  made  between 
the  experiences  of  Tupper  and  Tennyson ;  but  we  all  know 
whose  works  will  be  printed  and  read  in  the  year  1960, 
and  whose  won't. 

When  I  was  about  starting  for  Europe,  on  my  way  to 
the  East,  in  the  summer  of  1851,  a  mutual  friend  offered 
me  a  letter  to  Browning,  who  was,  then,  with  his  wife, 
temporarily  in  London.  (After  their  marriage,  which  took 
place  three  or  four  years  previous,  they  made  their  home 
in  Italy.)  Calling,  one  afternoon  in  September,  at  their 
residence  in  Devonshire  street,  I  was  fortunate  enough  to 
find  both  at  home,  though  on  the  very  eve  of  their  return 
to  Florence.  In  a  small  drawing-room  on  the  first  floor  I 
met  Browning,  who  received  me  with  great  cordiality.  In 
his  lively,  cheerful  manner,  quick  voice,  and  perfect  self- 
possession,  he  made  upon  me  the  impression  of  an  Ameri- 
can rather  than  an  Englishman.  He  was  then,  I  should 
judge,  about  thirty-seven  years  of  age,  but  his  dark  hair 
was  already  streaked  with  gray  about  the  temples.  His 
complexion  was  fair,  with  perhaps  the  faintest  olive  tinge, 
eyes  large,  clear,  and  gray,  nose  strong  and  well  cut,  mouth 
full  and  rather  broad,  and  chin  pointed,  though  not  pro- 


PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  413 

minent.  His  forehead  broadened  rapidly  upwards  from 
the  outer  angle  of  the  eyes,  slightly  retreating.  The  strong 
individuality  which  marks  his  poetry  was  expressed,  not 
only  in  his  face  and  head,  but  in  his  whole  demeanor.  He 
was  about  the  medium  height,  strong  in  the  shoulders,  but 
slender  at  the  waist,  and  his  movements  expressed  a  com- 
bination of  vigor  and  elasticity. 

In  the  room  sat  a  very  large  gentleman  of  between  fifty 
and  sixty  years  of  age.  He  must  have  weighed  two  hundred 
and  fifty  pounds,  at  least ;  his  large,  rosy  face,  bald  head,  and 
rotund  body  would  have  suggested  a  prosperous  brewer, 
if  a  livelier  intelligenco  had  not  twinkled  in  the  bright, 
genial  eyes.  This  unwieldy  exterior  covered  one  of  the 
warmest  and  most  generous  of  hearts,  and  that  heavy  right 
hand  had  written  one  of  the  finest  English  anacreontics. 
The  man  was  John  Kenyon,  who  giving  up  his  early  am- 
bition to  be  known  as  an  author,  devoted  his  life  to  making 
other  authors  happy.  Possessed  of  ample  means,  his  house 
near  London  was  opened  to  all  who  handled  pen,  brush,  or 
chisel,  and  the  noble  hospitality  which  he  gave  to  Art  was 
repaid  to  him  by  the  society  and  esteem  of  the  artists.  He 
was  a  relative  of  Mrs.  Browning,  and  at  his  death,  four 
years  ago,  bequeathed  to  her  a  legacy  of  £10,000. 

Mr.  Kenyon  had  called  to  say  good-by  to  his  friends, 
and  presently  took  his  leave.  "  There,"  said  Browning, 
when  the  door  had  closed  after  him,  "  there  goes  one  of 
the  most  splendid  men  living — a  man  so  noble  in  his 
friendships,  so  lavish  in  his  hospitality,  so  large-hearted 
and  benevolent,  that  he  deserves  to  be  known  all  over  the 
world  as  '  Kenyon  the  Magnificent !' "     His  eulogy  was 


414  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  Mrs.  Browning,  whom  he 
ran  to  meet  with  a  boyish  Uveliness.  She  was  slight  and 
fragile  in  appearance,  with  a  pale,  wasted  face,  shaded  by 
masses  of  soft  chestnut  curls  which  fell  on  her  cheeks,  and 
serious  eyes  of  bluish-gray.  Her  frame  seemed  to  be  alto- 
gether disproportionate  to  her  soul.  This,  at  least,  was 
the  first  impression :  her  personality,  frail  as  it  appeared, 
soon  exercised  its  power,  and  it  seemed  a  natural  thing 
that  she  should  have  written  the  "  Cry  of  the  Children  " 
or  the  "  Lady  Geraldine's  Courtship.''  I  also  understood 
how  these  two  poets,  so  different  both  intellectually  and 
physically,  should  have  found  their  complements  in  each 
other.  The  fortunate  balance  of  their  reciprocal  qualities 
makes  them  an  exception  to  the  rule  that  the  intermarriage 
of  authors  is  unadvisable,  and  they  appear  to  be — and  are 
— ^perfectly  happy  in  their  wedded  life. 

They  both  expressed  great  satisfaction  with  their  Ame- 
rican rejjutation,  adding  that  they  had  many  American 
acquaintances  in  Florence  and  Rome.  "  In  fact,"  said 
Browning,  "  I  verily  believe  that  if  we  were  to  make  out  a 
list  of  our  best  and  dearest  friends,  we  should  find  more  Ame- 
rican than  English  names."  Mrs.  Browning  was  anxious  to 
learn  something  with  regard  to  Art  in  this  country,  and  the 
patronage  extended  to  it ;  and,  in  the  course  of  the  con- 
versation, freely  expressed  her  belief  that  a  Republican 
form  of  Government  is  unfavorable  to  the  development  of 
the  Fhie  Arts.  To  this  opinion  I  dissented  as  moderately 
as  possible,  but  I  soon  had  a  powerful  ally  in  Browning, 
who  declared  that  no  artist  had  ever  before  been  honored 
with  a  more  splendid  commission  than  the  State  of  Vir- 


PEKSONAL   SKETCHES.  415 

ginia  had  given  to  Crawford.  A  general  historical  discus- 
sion ensued,  which  was  carried  on  for  some  time  with  the 
greatest  spirit,  the  two  poets  taking  directly  opposite 
views.  It  was  good-humoredly  closed  at  last,  and  I'thought 
both  of  them  seemed  to  enjoy  it.  There  is  no  fear  that  two 
such  fine  intellects  will  rust :  they  "will  keep  each  other 
bright  through  the  delight  of  the  encounter. 

Their  child,  a  blue-eyed,  golden-haired  boy  of  two  years 
old,  was  brought  into  the  room.  He  stammered  Italian 
sentences  only:  he  knew  nothing,  as  yet,  of  his  native 
tongue.  He  has  since  exhibited  a  remarkable  genius  for 
music  and  drawing — a  fortunate  circumstance,  for  inherited 
genius  is  always  fresher  and  moi'e  vigorous  when  it  seeks  a 
new  form  of  expression. 

I  feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  touch  further  the  person- 
ality of  these  poets.  The  jiublic  always  demands  to  know, 
and  there  is  no  impropriety  in  its  knowing,  how  its  favorite 
author  looks  and  talks,  but,  while  he  lives,  it  has  no  right 
to  pry  into  the  sanctities  of  his  private  life.  Robert  and 
Elizabeth  Barrett  Browning,  however,  have  thousands  of 
unknown  friends  in  this  country  who  will  be  glad  to  know 
that  their  lives  are  fortunate — that  their  share  of  the  neces- 
sary troubles  and  trials  is  not  more  than  the  average  lot  of 
man — or,  if  greater,  is  borne  with  a  cheerfulness  and 
courage  M'hich  hide  it  from  other  eyes.  Owing  to  Mrs. 
Browning's  feeble  health,  they  have  made  Italy  their  per- 
manent home,  but  they  visit  England  from  time  to  time. 

I  met  them  agaui  in  London,  in  1856,  where  I  had  the 
pleasure  of  breakfasting  at  Barry  Cornwall's  in  company 
with   Browning.      He  was  very  gay  and   witty,  and   as 


416  AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

young  and  buoyant  in  appearance  as  when  I  first  saw  him, 
Mrs.  Browning  was  then  reading  the  proofs  of  "  Aurora 
Leigh,"  which  appeared  shortly  afterwards. 


3. — The  Weiters  for  "Punch." 

Mr.  Thackeray,  whose  connection  with  The  London 
Punch  dates  back  almost,  if  not  quite,  to  its  initial  num- 
ber, is  in  the  habit  of  giving  an  annual  dinner  to  the 
editors,  contributors,  and  publishers  of  that  periodical.  In 
July,  1857,  I  happened  to  be  in  London  when  the  dinner 
for  that  year  came  off,  and  was  one  of  four  Americans  who 
were  guests  on  that  occasion.  The  other  three  were  a 
noted  sculptor,  the  architect-in-chief  of  the  Central  Park, 
and  an  ex-editor  of  The  JSfeic  York  Times. 

In  summer,  the  usual  dinner-hour  in  London  is  seven, 
although,  even  then,  the  shutters  must  be  closed  to  make 
gas-light  effective.  Dinner,  as  is  well-known,  is  a  much 
graver  affair  in  England  than  elsewhere,  and  daylight  is 
destructive  to  its  success.  The  sumiher  twilight  of  the 
North,  however,  exacts  a  compromise,  which  I  found  very 
agreeable.  You  drive  to  your  destination  in  the  hazy 
orange  splendor  of  sunset,  and  are  then  ushered  into  the 
soft  lamp-light  which  streams  upon  the  hospitable  board. 
The  transition  of  feeling  is  something  like  that  you  expe- 
rience on  entering  a  theatre.  The  threshold  of  the  build- 
ing is  the  dividing  line  between  two  worlds,  and  you  sur- 
render yourself  willingly  to  the  illusions  before  you. 


PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  417 

In  this  case  of  the  "  Punch  Dinner,"  however,  there 
were  no  special  illusions  to  be  accepted :  everything  was 
simple,  unconventional,  and  genial.  The  guests  assembled 
in  Mr.  Thackeray's  drawing-room,  most  of  them  wearing 
easy  black  cravats  instead  of  the  stiff  white  "  chokers" 
which  English  society  requires,  and  marched  thence  to  the 
dining-room  without  any  particular  order  of  precedence. 
Bradbury  and  Evans,  whose  names  are  as  well  known  as 
those  of  the  authors,  who  have  grown  famous  behind 
their  imprint,  were  there :  Mark  Lemon,  the  patriarch  of 
"  Punch  /"  Horace  Mayhew,  "  the  Greatest  Plague  of 
Life  ;"  Tom  Taylor,  and  Shirley  Brooks  ;  and  two  or  three 
other  gentlemen  whose  names  are  not  mentioned  in  connec- 
tion with  their  contributions,  and  whom,  therefore,  I  shall 
not  individually  designate.  The  absence  of  Douglas  Jer- 
rold  was  lamented  by  all.  He  was  then,  I  think,  at  Bou- 
logne, for  his  health.  The  following  June,  on  the  very  day 
I  returned  to  London,  the  gay  company,  whose  acquaint- 
ance I  was  now  to  make,  attended  his  body  to  its  resting- 
place  in  Norwood  Cemetery. 

"  The  gay  company,"  I  have  said :  but  by  no  means  so 
uproariously  gay  as  the  reader  may  suppose.  An  author's 
books  raiely  reflect  his  external  life,  and  he  who  most 
provokes  your  mirth  by  his  writings  may  chance  to  have 
the  saddest  face  when  you  meet  him.  If  I  had  not 
known  this  fact  previously,  I  might  have  been  disappointed  : 
for  not  a  single  joke  did  I  hear  during  the  whole  blessed 
evening.  There  was  much  cheerful  chat,  and  some  amusing 
stories,  but  no  sparkle  of  wit,  no  flash  of  airy  banter  and 
repartee,  such  as  might  have  been  expected  in  the  atmo- 

18* 


418  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

sphere  of  the  Humorous  Olynipus.  The  Punch  wherewith 
we  \vere  regaled  was  not  that  swift,  warm,  inspiring  beve- 
rage of  the  Nodes  Amhrosiatice — but  cool  claret  and 
borage — in  fact,  that  veritable  fragrant  cup,  without  a 
knowledge  of  which  (according  to  the  Hon.  Grantley 
Berkley),  no  man  can  justly  be  called  a  gentleman. 

Our  giant  host,  upon  whose  head  lie  the  snows  of  wis- 
dom, not  of  age,  illustrated  the  grandeur  of  cheerfulness, 
as  he  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  table.  The  eyes 
which  can  pierce  through  the  triple  mail  of  shams  and 
hypocrisies,  sheathed  their  trenchant  glances,  and  beamed 
only  a  cordial  hospitality.  At  the  other  end  of  the  table 
sat  Mark  Lemon,  his  very  opposite  in  appearance.  3Iark 
is  evidently  a  Lemon  which  has  not  yet  been  subjected  to 
the  process  of  squeezing.  In  arithmetical  formula  his 
height  being  16,  his  diameter  would  be  9.  His  face  is 
broad,  mild,  and  massive,  but  receives  character  from  a 
heavy  moustache.  In  a  crowd  I  should  have  taken  him 
for  a  prosperous  Dutch  banker.  He  was  formerly  a  pub- 
lican, but  not  a  sinner,  I  should  judge,  for  he  evidently 
enjoys  a  good  conscience,  as  well  as  good  health.  His 
manners  are  quiet  and  gentlemanly,  but  I  suspected  the 
presence  of  a  huge  cetaceous  mirthfulness  behind  this 
repose.     It  would  take  a  harpoon,  however,  to  draw  it  out. 

My  vis-d-vis  happened  to  be  Tom  Taylor,  who  was  de- 
cidedly the  liveliest  of  the  company.  Tom  is  a  man  of 
thirty-eight,  or  thereabouts,  rather  tall  than  short,  well- 
built,  with  a  strong,  squareish  face,  black  eyes,  hair,  and 
moustache,  and  a  gay,  cheerful,  wide-awake  air,  denoting  a 
liappy  mixture  of  the  imaginative  and  the  practical  facul- 


PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  419 

ties.  He  was  always  ready  to  join  in  the  laugh,  and  to 
crown  it  by  provoking  another.  In  fact,  he  showed  so  little 
of  Euglisli  reserve,  so  much  of  unembarrassed  American 
honhommie^  that  we  ought,  properly,  to  call  him,  "  Our 
English  Cousin." 

Shirley  Brooks,  who,  in  addition  to  his  contributions  to 
Punchy  is  the  author  of  "  Aspen  Court,"  a  successful  novel, 
and  "  The  Silver  Cord,"  (now  being  published  in  "  Orice  a 
Week,^^)  appeal's  to  be  a  year  or  two  younger  than  Tom 
Taylor — a  fair,  blond,  blue-eyed,  plump  Englishman,  with 
the  conventional  whiskers  and  smoothly-shaven  lips  and 
chin.  His  face  is  good-humor  itself.  He  seems  to  have  no 
sharp  angles  in  his  nature — does  not  flash  or  dazzle — but 
beams  with  a  steady,  cheerful  light,  receiving  as  well  as 
giving  the  spirit  of  the  hour.  Upon  myself,  at  least,  he 
made  a  most  agreeable  impression. 

Horace  Mayhew,  on  the  other  hand,  is  tall,  dark,  and 
grave  in  manner,  with  aquiline  nose,  keen  eyes,  and  heavy 
moustache.  My  place  at  table  did  not  happen  to  be  near 
him,  and  he  said  nothing  during  the  dinner  to  draw  the 
attention  of  the  company  upon  him.  His  articles  upon 
"  London  Labor  and  the  London  Poor"  suggest  the  charac- 
ter of  his  personality  much  better  than  that  admirable 
domestic  satire,  "  The  Greatest  Plague  of  Life.''  He  was 
at  that  time,  I  understood,  a  regular  contributor  to  Punch. 
The  publishers,  Bradbury  &  Evans,  must  not  be  over- 
looked. Their  presence  at  the  dinner  was  an  evidence  that 
Campbell's  assertion  of  the  natural  enmity  between  pub- 
lishers and  authors,  was  founded  on  some  personal  spite 
rather  than  uj>ou   actual  fiict.    The  reciprocal  cordiality 


420  AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

which  Avas  manifested  between  them  and  the  other  guests, 
was  not  simulated.  They  were  really,  as  M'ell  as  apparent- 
ly,  friends.  Quiet,  unobtrusive,  genial,  and  unmistakeably 
benevolent  in  character,  they  increased  the  harmony  of  the 
circle.  Xo  one  felt  the  presence  of  a  chilling  material  ele- 
ment. A  year  later,  I  learned  that  when  Douglas  Jerrpld 
died,  he  was  £800  in  their  debt,  not  a  penny  of  which  they 
ever  claimed.  It  is  a  pity  that  the  honorable  treatment 
which  they  extend  to  authors  should  not  have  always  been 
returned  to  them. 

The  company,  as  I  have  already  said,  was  wholly  and 
heai-tily  cheerful,  but  could  scarcely  be  called  brilliant.  The 
best  things,  as  usual,  were  said  by  our  host.  One  occasion 
of  this  kind,  however,  is  by  no  means  a  specimen  of  all. 
Perhaps  the  barometer  was  falling ;  perhaps  two  of  the 
guests  had  private  worries  of  some  sort ;  perhaps  no  pro- 
per conductor  was  present,  to  draw  the  electricity  from 
those  charged  clouds.  It  is  very  unftiir  to  judge  any  man 
by  a  single  interview.  Therefore,  I  would  not  be  under- 
stood as  saying,  that  the  writers  for  Punch  are  not  witty 
in  society :  I  simply  describe  them  as  I  saw  them.  Words- 
worth, after  his  wife's  death,  sat  by  his  lonely  fireside,  ab- 
sorbed in  grief,  and  paid  no  attention  to  a  curious  visitor 
who  accosted  him.  The  latter  immediately  went  home  and 
spread  the  report  that  Wordsworth  was  losing  his  mind. 
There  is  much  bright,  keen  humor  among  the  London  au- 
thors, but  I  have  no  doubt  the  New  York  Press  Club  can 
get  together  as  brilliant  a  party. 

Albert  Smith  should  have  been  present,  but  he  was  not 
able  to  attend.     His  wonderful  powers  as  an  improvisatore 


PEBSONAL   SKETCHES.  421 

were  so  highly  extolled,  that  I  regretted  having  lost  the 
opportunity  of  hearing  him.  I  afterwards  visited  his  As- 
cent of  Mount  Blanc — a  combination  of  cheap  panorama 
and  diverting  narrative,  the  success  of  which  depended  so 
much  on  the  peculiar  humor  of  the  man  himself,  that  he  can 
have  no  successor.  It  was  simply  a  collection  of  grotesque 
incidents  of  travel,  but  related  with  such  droll  imitations, 
and  in  such  a  hearty,  off-hand,  comic  tone,  that  the  audience 
was  convulsed  with  laughter,  from  beginning  to  end.  The 
very  same  things,  in  the  mouth  of  another  man,  might  have 
failed  to  produce  any  effect.  The  mirthful  eyes,  broad  face, 
cheery  voice,  and  stout  figure  of  Albert  Smith,  were  indis- 
pensable parts  of  the  performance.  These  alone  enabled 
him  to  gain  a  fortune  of  £30,000  in  a  few  years.  And  the 
moral  I  would  deduce  therefrom  is  this :  Cheerfulness  is  a 
Power. 


4. — Leigh  Hunt. 

I  HAD  but  one  interview  with  Leigh  Hunt,  yet  so  satis- 
factory was  that  interview,  in  its  exhibition  of  his  peculiar 
characteristics,  both  as  poet  and  man,  that  I  doubt  whether 
a  month's  acquaintance  would  have  done  more.  It  was  in 
June,  1857,  when  I  was  spending  a  fortnight  in  London, 
preparatory  to  my  summer  tour  in  Norway.  Mr.  Buchanan 
Read,  the  poet  and  artist,  and  Mr.  Moran  of  the  American 
Legation,  both  of  whom  were  friends  of  Mr.  Hunt,  kindly 
invited  me,  with  his  permission,  to  spend  an  evening  with 
him. 


422  AT  HOME  AND  ABROAD. 

In  the  long  summer  twilight  we  drove  out  past  Ken- 
sington and  Brompton,  mile  after  mile,  through  the  endless 
London,  until  we  reached  the  quiet  shades  of  Hammersmith. 
Here  the  pulses  of  the  great  city  are  no  longer  felt :  lanes 
of  modest  cottages  and  gardens  branch  off  from  the  main 
thoroughfare,  and  one  can  live  in  as  complete  a  seclusion  as 
among  the  mountains  of  Cumberland.  In  one  of  those  neat, 
silent  lanes,  where  grass  and  paving-stones  seem  to  be  striv- 
ing alike  for  the  upper  hand,  we  found  the  poet's  residence 
— a  plain  two-story  brick  cottage,  of  the  humblest  size,  but 
as  trim  and  snug  in  its  outward  aspect  as  it  could  well  be. 

Hunt's  wife  had  been  dead  for  nearly  a  year,  and  he  was 
living  alone,  with  but  a  single  servant.  His  pension,  and 
the  moderate  income  which  he  received  from  his  books, 
were  sufficient  for  his  necessities,  and  he  was  at  last  enjoy- 
ing a  httle  pecuniary  peace,  after  a  long  struggle  with  those 
material  difficulties  which  he,  least  of  all  poets,  was  fitted  to 
encounter.  The  servant  ushered  us  through  a  diminutive 
haJI,  into  a  little  library,  on  the  threshold  of  which  Mr.  Hunt 
met  us.  The  first  impression  which  I  received  from  his 
presence  was  that  of  his  thorough  gentleness  and  refine- 
ment. He  was  tall — nearly  six  feet — but  slender,  and  still 
perfectly  erect,  in  spite  of  his  seventy  years.  This  was  all 
that  I  could  notice  in  the  twilight,  but  I  felt  the  cordial 
pressure  of  a  small,  warm,  delicate  hand,  as  he  welcomed 
me  with  a  manner  in  which  there  was  sometliing  of  a  fine 
antique  courtesy. 

We  entered  the  little  room,  the  servant  lighted  the  lamp, 
and  we  took  seats  at  the  four  sides  of  a  table  just  large 
enough  to  accommodate  us.     The  walls  were  covered  with 


PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  423 

books  from  floor  to  ceiling :  a  single  window  opened  upon 
a  few  square  yards  of  garden,  and  there  was  just  sufiicient 
room  for  the  servant  to  pass  around,  outside  of  us.  No- 
thing could  be  more  cozy  and  comfortable.  The  narrow 
quarters  disposed  each  one  of  us  to  genial,  social  converse, 
and  we  should  have  felt  much  less  at  home  in  the  large  and 
lofty  hall  of  an  aristocratic  mansion.  It  was  a  partie  car- 
r&,  such  as  would  have  rejoiced  the  heart  of  Barry  Corn- 
wall. 

While  our  host  was  filling  the  tea-cups,  I  studied  his  face 
in  the  lamp-light.  It  was  a  head  which  Vandyke  should 
have  painted — a  fine  oval,  with  a  low,  placid  brow,  kind, 
sweet,  serious  eyes  of  bluish-gray,  a  nose  rather  long,  but 
not  prominent,  full,  delicately-cut,  sensitive  mouth,  and  a 
chin  short  and  retreating,  but  dimpled  in  the  centre.  His 
hair,  abundant,  and  pure  silver  in  its  hue,  was  parted  in  the 
middle,  and  fell  in  long  Avavos  to  his  shoulders.  He  was 
dressed  in  black,  with  a  collar  turned  down,  so  as  to  show 
more  of  the  throat  than  is  usual  in  Englishmen.  There 
was  something  saintly  in  the  mildness,  serenity,  and  perfect 
refinement  of  his  features,  but  they  wore  an  expression  of 
habitual  cheerfulness  and  happiness  which  we  rarely  find 
on  the  face  of  declared  saints.  His  voice  was  low  and 
clear,  with  an  exquisitely  distinct  articulation. 

Leigh  Hunt,  in  fact,  might  justly  be  called,  among  poets, 
the  Apostle  of  Cheerfulness.  No  author  ever  possessed  a 
sunnier  philosophy.  All  the  hardships  and  disappointments 
of  his  life  could  not  sour  or  embitter  him.  He  stuck  bravely 
to  the  theory  that  everything  was  good  and  beautiful — that 
there  was  no  inherent  evil  in  the  nature  of  Man,  and  no 


424  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

reason  why  every  human  being  on  the  face  of  the  earth 
should  not  be  jolly.  Not  a  dark,  or  morbid,  or  complain- 
ing line  is  to  be  found  in  all  his  works.  His  poems  are  full 
of  breezes,  and  odors,  and  sunshine,  and  laughter.  His 
personality  conveyed  just  the  same  impression,  and  one  of 
his  first  remarks,  on  that  evening,  was  an  amusing  confirm- 
ation of  it.  "  I  have  recently  lost  most  of  my  teeth,"  said 
he  ;  "  and  I  am  surprised  to  find  that  I  suffer  some  incon- 
venience from  it.  I  always  supposed  that  Nature  would 
compensate  us  for  every  loss  of  the  kind — either  that  the 
gums  would  harden  so  as  to  take  the  place  of  teeth,  or  that 
I  should  lose  all  desire  for  food  which  requires  mastication  : 
but  it  does  not  seem  to  be  so.  I  am  a  little  disapj^ointed, 
I  must  confess  ;  but  I  shall  try  the  experiment  a  while 
longer." 

By  degrees,  he  fell  into  his  favorite  theme — that  of  the 
absolute  goodness  and  beauty  of  everything.  I  expressed 
a  different  opinion,  mainly  for  the  sake  of  hearing  how  he 
would  defend  himself  He  skipped  over  contradictory 
facts  and  arguments,  however,  with  a  cheerful  agility  which 
showed  that  he  was  used  to  it.  "  Why,"  he  exclaimed, 
'•'■  nobody  does  evil  for  the  love  of  it.  Evil  is  simply  a  bad 
habit,  a  diseased  condition  of  the  mind.  Even  the  man 
who  assaults  or  robs  you  tries  first  to  excite  your  anger 
against  him,  so  that  his  act  may  seem  to  himself  to  be  a 
retaliation,  rather  than  an  unprovoked  wrong.  If  men 
were  properly  educated,  they  would  all  be  good.  The  bad 
are  simply  to  be  pitied,  not  blamed,  because  their  lives  have 
been  distorted,  and  generally  by  no  fault  of  their  own.''  It 
was  pleasant  to  hear  such  kindly  sentiments  from  an  old 


PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  425 

man  whose  life  had  not  been  very  fortunate,  except  in  its 
associations  ;  but  I  candidly  confessed  that  I  was  unable  to 
accept  quite  so  good-natured  a  philosophy. 

In  the  course  of  our  conversation,  some  remark  about 
birds  led  Hunt  to  take  down  a  volume  and  read  to  us  the 
song  of  a  nightingale,  as  put  into  words  by  some  Italian 
author.  He  read  it  in  a  silvery,  chirping  tone,  running 
over  the  trills  and  lingering  on  the  sustained  notes  in  a  way 
which  reproduced  all  of  the  nightingale's  song  except  its 
passion.  His  reading  of  poetry  was  likewise  fine,  but  cha- 
racteristic :  he  never  could  have  chanted  Milton  with  the 
grand  and  solemn  monotony  of  Tennyson's  voice. 

Hunt's  father  was  a  Philadelphian,  and  he  was  related  to 
Benjamin  West  by  the  mother's  side.  He  was  much  inte- 
rested in  learning  that  the  children  of  Americans,  though 
born  abroad,  are  still  American  citizens,  and  that,  there- 
fore, he  enjoyed  the  citizenship  of  both  hemispheres.  His 
first  volume  of  poems  ("  Foliage'')  was  reprinted  in  Phi- 
ladelphia in  1817.  He  spoke  with  great  satisfaction  of 
his  American  reputation,  his  previous  idea  of  the  "  shop- 
board"  having  perhaps  been  modified  by  the  offer  of  Tick- 
nor  &  Fields  to  pay  him  a  copyright  on  his  works. 

Dickens's  character  of  "  Harold  Skimpole,"  in  "  Bleak 
House,"  which,  by  the  novelist's  confession,  was  drawn 
from  Leigh  Hunt,  is  a  glai'ing  caricature.  Placing,  himselfj 
very  little  value  upon  money.  Hunt  could  not  recognize  its 
actual  value  in  the  eyes  of  others.  He  borrowed  as  freely 
as  he  would  have  given,  had  the  case  been  reversed,  and  he 
was  perhaps  as  careless  about  paying  as  he  would  have 
been  about  demanding  payment.     This,  of  course,  was  a 


426  AT   HOME  AND   ABEOAD. 

weakness  which  we  cannot  justify ;  but  neither  can  we  jus- 
tify the  wanton  and  distorted  exhibition  of  it  by  a  bi'other 
author.  Hunt  was  also  called  selfish.  All  persons  of  ex- 
quisite and  delicate  taste  are  necessarily — perhaps  uncon- 
sciously— selfish  in  certain  ways.  Hunt's  conduct,  however, 
during  his  imprisonment,  shows  that  he  knew  how  to  en- 
dure serious  loss  for  the  sake  of  a  principle,  and  that  the 
baser  forms  of  selfishness  had  no  place  in  his  nature.  His 
kindly  philosophy  was  sincere,  and,  whatever  faults  he  may 
have  had,  the  example  of  patience  and  cheerfulness  which 
he  gives  us  far  overbalances  them. 

The  world  is  full  of  weeping  and  wailing  authors,  and  we 
should  be  thankful  for  one  who  does  not  swell  the  utterance 
of  misery— who  conceals  his  tears,  and  shows  us  a  happy 
face  wherever  we  meet  him. 


6. — Hans  Christian  Andersen. 

Hans  Christian  Andersen  is  one  of  the  few  fortunate 
authors  whose  works  are  racy  with  the  peculiar  flavor  of 
their  native  soil,  yet  harmonize  with  the  natural  taste  of  all 
other  lands.  The  naive  simplicity  of  his  style,  the  richness 
and  quaintness  of  his  fancy,  and  a  minute  delicacy  of  touch 
in  his  descriptive  passages  which  reminds  one  of  the  pencil 
of  Teniers,  may  be  enjoyed  by  those  most  remote  from  the 
moors  of  Jutland  and  the  cliff-bound  Baltic  isles  whence  his 
themes  are  mostly  drawn — yet  doubly  enjoyed  by  the  few 
to  whom  the  originals  of  his  landscapes  are  familiar.    Den- 


PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  427 

mark  is  rich  in  the  natural  elements  of  poetry.  Its  history- 
is  a  wonderful  panorama  of  romance,  wherein  the  heroic 
figures  stand  out  sharp  and  splendid  against  a  background 
of  storm.  There  the  pagan  chant  of  the  sacred  forests  of 
Odin  mingles  with  the  masses  of  Christian  monks ;  the  rob- 
ber-knight of  the  mainland  meets  the  pirate  of  the  sea; 
barbaric  splendor  and  Titanic  wassail  alternate  with  a  life 
of  savage  endurance.  The  convulsions  of  the  Present  may 
create  soldiers,  priests,  statesmen :  the  Past  is  the  mother 
of  poets. 

Denmark  is  not  renowned  for  its  scenery,  yet  its  land- 
scapes have  a  picturesque  homeliness — at  times  a  sublime 
monotony — which  have  more  power  to  attract  the  Muse 
than  the  grandest  natural  features.  And  here  let  me  remark 
that  scenery  does  not  create  poets,  either.  Where  is  tlie 
native  poet  of  the  Alps  ?  or  the  Pyrenees  ?  or  the  Bos- 
phorus?  or  of  Cashmere,  the  Caucasus,  and  the  Himalaya? 
The  Genius  of  Song  does  not  alight  on  the  icy  peaks,  or 
drop  into  the  awful  gorges  of  mountain  chains.  He  hovers 
over  the  smoke  of  cities,  or  seeks  the  lowly  pastoral  vales, 
the  plains,  the  heathery  moorlands,  to  pick  out  his  chosen 
children.  This  is  no  accidental  i-esult :  for  the  life  of  the 
mountaineer  transmits  to  his  children  the  quick  foot,  the 
strong  nerve,  the  keen  eye,  rather  than  the  brooding  and 
singing  brain.  The  ploughman's  son,  the  herd-boy  of  the 
meadows,  the  nursling  of  the  town,  inherit  no  such  overplus 
of  animal  culture :  the  struggling  intellect  and  vague  dreams 
of  the  father  or  mother  blossom  naturally,  in  them,  into  the 
vision  and  the  faculty  divine.  People  are  apt  to  exclaim 
(because  many  people  either  never  think,  or  think  in  the 


428  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

shallowest  possible  way),  on  beholding  a  grand  mountain 
landscape :  "  This  is  the  true  home  of  poets !"  The  remark 
simply  indicates  that  the  ideality  of  the  spectator  is  slightly 
excited.  The  reverse  is  true.  Even  Holland  has  produced 
more  poets  than  Switzerland. 

Denmark,  in  spite  of  its  northern  latitude,  seemed  to  me 
to  be  admirably  adapted  for  the  cradle  of  authors.  It  has 
many  "  waste  and  solitary  places,"  such  as  Shelley  loved ; 
melancholy  sweeps  of  sandy  "dunes,"  fretted  with  the 
embroidery  of  the  North  Sea's  waves,  and  rolling  moor- 
lands, purple  with  heather  or  golden  with  gorse  and  broom. 
The  highest  hill  in  Jutland  is  only  six  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea,  yet  there  are  lovely,  green,  winding  valleys, 
threaded  by  the  clearest  of  streams ;  woods  of  oak,  beech, 
birch,  and  fur  ;  quaint  villages  with  tiled  roofs,  and  Tartar 
church-spires,  and  stately  country  mansions,  with  the  trim 
gardens  and  formal  parks  of  the  past  century.  On  one  side 
deep  sea-bays  run  far  up  among  the  wooded  hills ;  on  the 
other  long  friths  penetrate  the  land,  and  bring  the  quaint 
coasting-craft  into  the  central  landscapes.  On  the  islands, 
high  cliffs  of  chalk,  tunnelled  and  caverned  by  the  waves, 
front  the  Baltic,  and  every  break  in  this  white  wall  shows  a 
valley  sloping  up  inland,  and  bright  with  the  greenest  pas- 
tures and  the  fairest  groves.  "  Ah,"  said  a  Dane  to  me, 
"  you  have  walked  under  the  palms  of  Egypt  and  the  banyan 
trees  of  India,  but  you  have  never  yet  seen  the  beech  woods 
of  Langelandl  Nothing  in  the  world  is  so  beautiful. 
There,  in  June,  you  may  lie  on  the  moss,  under  a  canopy 
of  transparent  emerald — no  leaves  are  so  green  as  beech- 
leaves  in  June — and  see  the  blue  waters  of  our  Northern 


PERSONAL  SKETCHES.  429 

JSigeaxi  shimmering  below,  between  the  huge  boles,  white 
as  silver !     Then  you  would  understand  our  Danish  poets !" 

My  friend  was  right.  He  who  would  truly  enjoy  Oeh- 
lenschlager  and  Heiberg  and  Baggesen  and  Andersen,  must 
know  Denmark.  The  latter,  especially,  although  he  has 
travelled  much  and  has  occasionally  laid  the  scenes  of  his 
stories  in  foreign  lands,  is  Danish,  not  only  in  the  character 
of  his  mind,  but  in  his  most  successful  subjects.  He 
was  born  on  the  island  of  Fiinen,  in  1805,  and  until 
1833,  I  believe,  resided  either  there  or  in  Copenhagen, 
without  ever  having  trodden  the  mainland  of  Europe.  The 
son  of  a  poor  shoemaker,  a  shy  and  persecuted  factory -boy, 
a  supernumerary  on  the  stage,  a  charity  scholar,  he  has 
worked  his  way  steadily  upward,  through  that  tireless 
energy  which  is  nothing  less  than  a  concentrated  enthu- 
siasm, until  now  he  stands  acknowledged  as  the  first  of 
living  Danish  authors — in  fact,  without  a  rival  anywhere  in 
his  own  special  province  of  literature. 

I  cannot  remember  when  I  first  became  acquainted  with 
Andersen's  writings ;  but  I  think  it  was  during  my  first 
residence  in  Germany  in  1845.  Shortly  afterwards,  Mary 
Howitt's  translations  of  the  "  Imjyromsatore,''''  "  O.  T.," 
and  other  works  appeared.  They  were  reprinted  m  this 
country,  and  became  immediately  popular.  His  "  Story  of 
My  Life"  was  published  in  Boston  in  1847.  It  is  a  charm- 
ing autobiography,  a  little  petulant,  perhaps  a  little  too  free 
in  the  narration  of  his  private  hostilities,  but  as  fi*ank  and 
picturesque  as  that  of  Benvenuto  Cellini.  I  am  rather  sur- 
prised that  it  should  have  passed  out  of  print  so  soon. 
Like  Oehlenschliiger  Andersen  wrote  raanv  of  his  books  in 


430  AT  HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

German  as  well  as  in  Danish,  bnt  his  "  Two  Baronesses," 
which  he  wrote  in  English,  was  not  so  successful.  All  edu- 
cated Danes  speak  German,  and  the  affinity  between  the 
two  languages  renders  a  double  authorship  comparatively 
easy. 

An  intimate  friend  of  mine,  who  was  living  in  Copen- 
hagen, in  the  year  1852,  made  the  acquaintance  of  Ander- 
sen. One  day,  while  looking  over  the  poet's  library,  he 
found  a  copy  of  my  first  book  of  travel,  and  called  Ander- 
sen's attention  to  it.  The  latter  remarked  that  he  was 
sorry  the  author  should  have  died  before  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  writing  some  additional  volumes !  My  friend 
undeceived  him,  of  course,  and  the  result  was  a  cordial 
invitation,  on  his  part,  for  me  to  visit  him  at  Copenhagen. 
I  was  then  travelling  in  the  East,  and  received  his  message 
at  Constantinople.  It  was  then  in  my  plan  to  become 
acquainted  with  Northeni  Europe,  but  many  seas  and  con- 
tinents still  lay  between  the  invitation  and  its  fulfilment. 

Time,  nor  space,  however,  can  cheat  a  man  out  of  that 
which  he  is  sure  he  shall  have.  Six  years  afterwards,  I 
came  down  from  the  Arctic  Thule  to  find  the  first  tokens 
of  spring  on  the  shores  of  Zeeland.  I  had  but  a  day  or  two 
to  spend  in  Copenhagen,  and  the  sights  of  that  capital — 
Thorwaldsen's  Museum,  tlie  Rosenberg  Palace,  and  the 
Collection  of  Northern  Antiquities — gave  me  enough  to 
do  ;  but  I  set  aside  a  portion  of  my  time  for  Hans  Christian 
Andersen.  He  was  then  living  in  his  comfortable  bachelor 
rooms,  not  far  from  the  Kongens  Nytorv,  where  I  was 
lodged.  On  sending  a  messenger  to  announce  my  readi- 
ness to  make  his   acquaintance,   according  to  promise,  I 


PERSONAL   SKETCHES.  431 

received  word  that  he  was  just  going  out  to  fulfil  an 
engagement  for  the  evening,  but  would  call  upon  me  the 
next  day. 

I  was  sitting  at  my  window,  the  following  afternoon, 
busily  engaged  in  sketching  the  Nytorv,  with  its  bronze 
statue  of  Christian  IV.  in  the  centre,  when  some  one 
knocked  at  the  door.  Without  waiting  for  a  summons 
the  door  opened,  and  a  tall,  awkward,  shambling  figure 
entered.  The  first  idea  which  occurred  to  me  was :  "  Here 
is  a  man  who  is  perfectly  at  home  wherever  he  goes." 
Without  a  moment's  hesitation  I  sprang  up,  quite  forgetting 
that  we  had  never  met  before,  and  cried  out,  "  Andersen ! 
how  are  you  ?"  as  to  an  old  friend.  He  greeted  me  with 
both  hands  outstretched:  "Ah,  here  you  are  at  last!" 
Then,  still  holding  my  hands,  he  said :  "  To  think  that  you 
might  have  passed  through  Copenhagen,  without  my  know- 
ing it !  How  I  should  have  been  vexed !"  Presently  we 
were  seated  face  to  face,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  knew  his 
features  as  well  as  if  I  had  seen  them  for  years. 

He  is  nearly  six  feet  high,  but  very  loosely  put  together, 
large-jointed,  angular,  and  ungainly  in  his  movements. 
His  head  is  thrown  back  in  a  way  common  to  near-sighted 
persons,  and  he  also  has  the  peculiarity  of  partly  closing 
the  eyelids  when  looking  at  you.  His  features  are  as  ill- 
assorted  as  his  limbs :  the  eyes  are  gray  and  projecting ; 
the  nose  large  and  not  quite  straight,  the  mouth  broad, 
and  the  teeth  irregular.  His  forehead  is  high  and  narrow, 
but  well  developed  at  the  temples,  and  his  hair  thin  and 
sandy-gray.  Yet  the  plainness  of  his  face  is  attractive, 
through  its  air  of  frankness,  honesty,  and  kindness.     His 


432  AT   HOME    AND   ABKOAD. 

manner  is  as  simple  and  natural  as  that  of  a  child.  He  has 
been  called  egotistical,  but  his  egotism  is  only  a  naive  and 
unthinking  sincerity.  He  has  that  winning  and  confiding 
way  which  not  only  encourages,  but  almost  compels  con- 
fidence in  others.  Such  a  man  is  not  only  unembarrassed 
himself,  but  his  presence  is  an  antidote  to  the  embarrass- 
ment of  others.  This  fact  accounts  for  his  personal  popu- 
larity with  all  classes  of  men,  from  peasants  to  kings.  He 
is  a  Knight  of  Dannebrog,  with  the  honorary  titles  of  Pro- 
fessor and  Doctor,  yet  it  will  never  be  possible  to  caU  him 
anything  else  than  Hans  Christian  Andersen. 


VII. 

The  Confessions  of  a  Medium. 

It  is  not  yet  a  year  since  I  ceased  to  act  as  a  Spiritual 
Medium.  (I  am  forced  to  make  use  of  this  title  as  the 
most  intelligible,  but  I  do  it  with  a  strong  mental  protest.) 
At  first,  I  desired  only  to  withdraw  myself  quietly  from  the 
peculiar  associations  into  which  I  had  been  thrown  by  the 
exercise  of  my  faculty,  and  be  content  Avith  the  simple 
fact  of  my  escape.  A  man  who  joins  the  Dashaways  does 
not  care  to  have  the  circumstance  announced  in  the  news- 
papers. "  So,  he  was  an  habitual  drunkard,"  the  public 
would  say.  I  was  overcome  by  a  similar  reluctance, — nay, 
I  might  honestly  call  it  shame, — since,  although  I  had  at 
intervals  officiated  as  a  Medium  for  a  period  of  seven  years, 
my  name  had  been  mentioned,  incidentally,  only  once  or 
twice  in  the  papers  devoted  especially  to  Spiritualism.  I 
had  no  such  reputation  as  that  of  Hume  or  Andrew  Jack- 
son Davis,  which  would  call  for  a  public  statement  of  my 
recantation.  The  result  would  be,  therefore,  to  give  pro- 
minence to  a  weakness,  which,  however  manfully  overcome, 
might  be  remembered  to  my  future  prejudice. 

19 


434  AT   HOME   AND  ABROAD. 

I  find,  however,  that  the  resolution  to  be  silent  leaves 
me  restless  and  unsatisfied.  And  in  reflecting  calmly — 
objectively,  for  the  first  time — upon  the  experience  of 
those  seven  years,  I  recognize  so  many  points  wherein  my 
case  is  undoubtedly  analogous  to  that  of  hundreds  of 
others  who  may  be  still  entangled  in  the  same  labyrinth 
whence  I  have  but  recently  escaped,  so  clear  a  solution  of 
much  that  is  enigmatical,  even  to  those  who  reject  Spirit- 
ualism, that  the  impulse  to  write  weighs  upon  me  with  the 
pressure  of  a  neglected  duty.  I  cannot  longer  be  silent, 
and,  in  the  conviction  that  the  truth  of  my  statement  will 
be  evident  enough  to  those  most  concerned  in  hearing  it, 
without  the  authority  of  any  name  (least  of  all,  of  one  so 
little  known  as  mine)  I  now  give  my  confession  to  the 
world.  The  names  of  the  individuals  whom  I  shall  have 
occasion  to  introduce  are,  of  course,  disguised ;  but,  with 
this  exception,  the  narrative  is  the  plainest  possible  record 
of  my  own  experience.  Many  of  the  incidents  which  I 
shall  be  obliged  to  describe  are  known  only  to  the  actors 
therein,  who,  I  feel  assured,  will  never  foolishly  betray 
themselves.  I  have  therefore  no  fear  that  any  harm  can 
result  from  my  disclosures. 

In  order  to  make  my  views  intelligible  to  those  readers 
who  have  paid  no  attention  to  psychological  subjects,  I 
must  commence  a  little  in  advance  of  my  story.  My  own 
individual  nature  is  one  of  those  apparently  inconsistent 
combinations  which  are  frequently  found  in  the  children 
of  parents  whose  temperaments  and  mental  personalities 
widely  diifer.  This  class  of  natures  is  much  larger  than 
would  be  supposed.     Inheriting  opposite,  even  conflicting, 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF   A   MEDIUM.  435 

traits  from  father  and  mother,  they  assume,  as  either  ele- 
ment predominates,  diverse  characters ;  and  that  which  is 
the  result  of  temperament  (in  fact,  congenital  inconsistency) 
is  set  down  by  the  unthinking  world  as  moral  weakness  or 
duplicity.  Those  who  have  sufficient  skill  to  perceive  and 
reconcile — or,  at  least,  govern — the  opposing  elements  are 
few,  indeed.  Had  the  power  come  to  me  sooner,  I  should 
have  been  spared  the  necessity  of  making  these  confessions. 

From  one  parent  I  inherited  an  extraordinarily  active 
and  sensitive  imagination, — ^from  the  other,  a  sturdy  prac- 
tical sense,  a  disposition  to  weigh  and  balance  with  calm 
fiiirness  the  puzzling  questions  which  life  offers  to  every 
man.  These  conflicting  qualities — as  is  usual  in  all  similar 
natures — were  not  developed  in  equal  order  of  growth. 
The  former  governed  my  childhood,  my  youth,  and  enve- 
loped me  wdth  spells,  which  all  the  force  of  the  latter  and 
more  slowly  ripened  faculty  was  barely  sufficient  to  break. 
Luxuriant  weeds  and  brambles  covered  the  soil  which 
should  have  been  ploughed  and  made  to  produce  honest 
gi-ain.  Unfortunately,  I  had  no  teacher  who  was  compe- 
tent to  miderstand  and  direct,  me.  The  task  was  left  for 
myself,  and  I  can  only  wonder,  after  all  that  has  occurred, 
how  it  has  been  possible  for  me  to  succeed.  Certainly, 
this  success  has  not  been  due  to  any  vigorous  exercise  of 
virtue  on  my  part,  but  solely  to  the  existence  of  that  cool, 
reflective  reason  which  lay  perdue  beneath  all  the  extrava- 
gances of  my  mind. 

I  possessed,  even  as  a  child,  an  unusual  share  of  what 
phrenologists  call  concentrativeness.  The  power  of  ab- 
sorption, of  self-forge tfuhiess,  was  at  the  same  time  a  source 


436  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

of  delight  and  a  torment.  Lost  in  some  wild  dream  or 
absurd  childish  speculation,  ray  insensibility  to  outward 
things  was  chastised  as  carelessness  or  a  hardened  indiffer- 
ence to  counsel.  With  a  memory  almost  marvellous  to 
retain  those  things  which  appealed  to  my  imagmation,  I 
blimdered  painfully  over  the  commonest  tasks.  While  I 
frequently  repeated  the  Sunday  hymn,  at  dinner,  I  was  too 
often  unable  to  give  the  least  report  of  the  sermon.  With- 
drawn into  my  corner  of  the  pew,  I  gave  myself  up,  after 
the  enunciation  of  the  text,  to  a  complete  abstraction, 
which  took  no  note  of  time  or  place.  Fixing  my  eyes 
upon  a  knot  in  one  of  the  panels  under  the  pulpit,  I  sat 
moveless  during  the  hour  and  a  half  which  our  worthy  old 
clergyman  required  for  the  expounding  of  the  seven  parts 
of  his  discourse.  They  could  never  accuse  me  of  sleep- 
ing, however ;  for  I  rarely  even  winked.  The  closing  hymn 
recalled  me  to  myself,  always  with  a  shock,  or  sense  of 
pain,  and  sometimes  even  with  a  temporary  nausea. 

This  habit  of  abstraction — properly  a  complete  passivity 
of  the  mind — after  a  while  developed  another  habit,  in 
which  I  now  see  the  root  of  that  peculiar  condition  which 
made  me  a  Medium.  I  shall  therefore  endeavor  to  deso'ibe 
it.  I  was  sitting,  one  Sunday,  just  as  the  minister  was 
commencing  his  sermon,  with  my  eyes  carelessly  following 
the  fingers  of  ray  right  hands,  as  I  drummed  them  slowly 
across  my  knee.  Suddenly,  the  wonder  came  into  my 
mind, — Mow  is  it  my  fingers  move  ? — What  set  them 
going  ?  What  is  it  that  stops  them  ?  The  mystery  of  that 
communication  between  will  and  muscle,  which  no  physi- 
ologist   has  ever  fathomed,   burst   upon  my  young  Intel- 


THE    CONFESSIONS    OF    A    MEDIUM.  437 

lect.  I  had  been  conscious  of  no  intention  of  thus  drum- 
ming my  fingers;  they  were  in  motion  when  I  first  noticed 
them :  they  were  certainly  a  part  of  myself,  yet  they  acted 
without  my  knowledge  or  design !  My  left  hand  was 
quiet ;  why  did  its  fingers  not  move  also  ?  Following  these 
reflections  came  a  dreadful  fear,  as  I  remembered  Jane, 
the  blacksmith's  daughter,  whose  elbows  and  shoulders 
sometimes  jerked  in  such  a  way  as  to  make  all  the  other 
scholars  laugh,  although  we  were  sorry  for  the  poor  girl, 
who  cried  bitterly  over  her  unfortunate,  ungovernable 
limbs.  I  was  comforted,  however,  on  finding  that  I  could 
control  the  motion  of  my  fingers  at  pleasure ;  but  my  ima- 
gination was  too  active  to  stop  there.  What  if  I  should 
forget  how  to  direct  my  hands?  What  if  they  should 
refuse  to  obey  me  ?  What  if  my  knees,  which  were  just 
as  still  as  the  hymn-books  in  the  rack  before  me,  should 
cease  to  bend,  and  I  should  sit  there  for  ever  ?  These  very 
questions  seemed  to  produce  a  temporary  paralysis  of  the 
will.  As  my  right  hand  lay  quietly  on  my  knee,  and  I 
asked  myself,  with  a  stupid  wonder,  "Now,  can  I  move 
it  ?"  it  lay  as  still  as  before.  I  had  only  questioned,  not 
willed.  "  No,  I  cannot  move  it,"  I  said,  in  real  doubt.  I 
was  conscious  of  a  blind  sense  of  exertion,  wherein  there 
was  yet  no  proper  exertion,  but  which  seemed  to  exhaust 
me.  Fascinated  by  this  new  mystery,  I  contemplated  my 
hand  as  something  apart  from  myself, — something  subor- 
dinate to,  but  not  identical  with,  me.  The  rising  of  the 
congregation  for  the  hymn  broke  the  spell,  like  the  snap- 
ping of  a  thread. 

The  reader  will  readily  understand  that  I  carried  these 


438  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

experiences  much  forther.  I  gradually  learned  to  suspend 
(perhaps  in  imagination  only,  but  therefore  none  the  less 
really)  the  action  of  my  will  upon  the  muscles  of  the  arms 
and  legs ;  and  I  did  it  with  the  greater  impunity,  from 
knowing  that  the  stir  consequent  upon  the  conclusion  of 
the  services  would  bring  me  to  myself.  In  proportion  as 
the  will  became  passive,  the  activity  of  my  imagination  was 
increased,  and  I  experienced  a  new  and  strange  delight  in 
watching  the  play  of  fantasies  which  appeared  to  come  and 
go  independently  of  myself.  There  was  still  a  dim  con- 
sciousness of  outward  things  mingled  with  my  condition  ; 
I  was  not  beyond  the  recall  of  my  senses.  But  one  day,  I 
remember,  as  I  sat  motionless  as  a  statue,  having  ceased 
any  longer  to  attempt  to  control  my  dead  limbs,  more  than 
usually  passive,  a  white,  shining  mist  gradually  stole  around 
me  ;  my  eyes  finally  ceased  to  take  cognizance  of  objects ; 
a  low,  musical  humming  sounded  in  my  ears,  and  those 
creatures  of  the  imagination  which  had  hitherto  crossed  ray 
brain  as  thoughts  now  spoke  to  me  as  audible  voices.  If 
there  is  any  happy  delirium  in  the  first  stages  of  intoxica- 
tion, (of  which,  thank  Heaven,  I  have  no  experience,)  it 
must  be  a  sensation  very  much  like  that  which  I  felt.  The 
death  of  external  and  the  birth  of  internal  consciousness 
overwhelmed  my  childish  soul  with  a  dumb,  ignorant  ecs- 
tasy, like  that  which  savages  feel  on  first  hearing  the 
magic  of  music. 

How  long  I  remained  thus  I  know  not.  I  was  aroused 
by  feeling  myself  violently  shaken.  "  John  !"  exclaimed 
my  mother,  who  had  grasped  my  arm  with  a  determined 
hand, — "  bless  the  boy  I  what  ails  him  ?     Why,  his  face  is 


THE   CONFESSIOKS   OF   A   MEDIUM.  439 

as  white  as  a  sheet !"  Slowly  I  recovered  my  conscious- 
ness, saw  the  church  and  the  departing  congregation,  and 
mechanically  followed  my  parents,  I  could  give  no  expla- 
nation of  what  had  happened,  except  to  say  that  I  had 
fallen  asleep.  As  I  ate  my  dinner  with  a  good  appetite, 
my  mother's  fears  were  quieted.  I  was  left  at  home  the 
following  Sunday,  and  afterwards  only  ventured  to  indulge 
sparingly  in  the  exercise  of  my  newly  discovered  faculty. 
My  mother,  I  was  conscious,  took  more  note  of  my  pre- 
sence than  formerly,  and  I  feared  a  repetition  of  the  same 
catastrophe.  As  I  grew  older  and  ray  mind  became  inter- 
ested in  a  wider  range  of  themes,  I  finally  lost  the  habit, 
which  I  classed  among  the  many  follies  of  childhood. 

I  retained,  nevertheless,  and  still  retain,  something  of 
that  subtile  instinct  which  mocks  and,  yet  surpasses  reason. 
My  feelings  with  regard  to  the  persons  whom  I  met  were 
quite  independent  of  their  behavior  towards  me,  or  the 
estimation  in  which  they  were  held  by  the  world.  Things 
which  puzzled  my  brain  in  waking  hours  were  made  clear 
to  me  in  sleep,  and  I  frequently  felt  myself  blindly  impelled 
to  do  or  to  avoid  doing  certain  things.  The  members  of 
my  family,  who  found  it  impossible  to  understand  my  mo- 
tives of  action, — ^because,  in  fact,  there  were  no  motives^ — 
complacently  solved  the  difficulty  by  calling  me  "  queer," 
I  presume  thei-e  are  few  persons  who  are  not  occasionally 
visited  by  the  instinct,  or  impulse,  or  faculty,  or  whatever 
it  may  be  called,  to  which  I  refer.  I  possessed  it  in  a  more 
than  ordinary  degree,  and  was  generally  able  to  distinguish 
between  its  suggestions  and  the  mere  humors  of  my  imagi- 
nation.   It  is  scarcely  necessary  to  say  that  I  assume  the 


440  AT   HOME   AKD    ABROAD. 

existence  of  such  a  power,  at  the  outset.  I  recognize  it  as 
a  normal  faculty  of  the  human  mind, — not  therefore  uni- 
versal, any  more  than  the  genius  which  makes  a  poet,  a 
painter,  or  a  composer. 

My  education  was  neither  general  nor  thorough  ;  hence 
I  groped  darkly  Avith  the  psychological  questions  which 
were  presented  to  me.  Tormented  by  those  doubts  which 
at  some  period  of  life  assail  the  soul  of  every  thinking  man, 
I  was  ready  to  grasp  at  any  solution  which  offered,  without 
very  carefully  testing  its  character.  I  eagerly  accepted  the 
theory  of  Animal  Magnetism,  which,  so  far  as  it  went,  was 
satisfactory ;  but  it  only  illustrated  the  powers  and  relations 
of  the  soul  in  its  present  state  of  existence ;  it  threw  no 
light  upon  that  future  which  I  was  not  willing  to  take  upon 
faith  alone.  Though. sensible  to  mesmeric  influences,  I  was 
not  willing  that  my  spiritual  nature  should  be  the  instru- 
ment of  another's  will,  — that  a  human  being,  like  myself, 
should  become  possessed  of  all  my  secrets  and  sanctities, 
touching  the  keys  of  every  passion  with  his  unhallowed 
fingers.  In  the  phenomena  of  clairvoyance  I  saw  only 
other  and  more  subtile  manifestations  of  the  power  which 
I  knew  to  exist  in  ray  own  mind.  Hence,  I  soon  grew 
weary  of  prosecuting  inquiries  which,  at  best,  would  fall 
short  of  solving  niy  own  great  and  painful  doubt, — Does 
the  human  soul  continue  to  exist  after  death  ?  That  it 
could  take  cognizance  of  things  beyond  the  reach  of  the  five 
senses,  I  was  already  assured.  This,  however,  might  be  a 
sixth  sense,  no  less  material  and  perishable  in  its  character 
than  the  others.  My  brain,  as  yet,  was  too  young  and  im- 
mature to  follow  the  thread  of  that  lofty  spiritual  logic  in 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF   A   MEDIUM.  441 

the  light  of  which  such  doubts  melt  away  like  mists  of  the 
night.  Thus,  uneasy  because  undeveloped,  erring  because 
I  had  never  known  the  necessary  guidance,  seeking,  but 
almost  despairing  of  enlightenment,  I  was  a  fit  subject  for 
any  spiritual  epidemic  which  seemed  to  offer  me  a  cure  for 
worse  maladies. 

At  this  juncture  occurred  the  phenomena  known  as  the 
"  Rochester  Knockings."  (My  home,  let  me  say,  is  in  a 
small  town  not  far  fi-om  New  York,)  I  shared  in  the  gene- 
ral interest  aroused  by  the  marvellous  stories,  which,  being 
followed  by  the  no  less  extraordinary  display  of  some  un- 
known agency  at  Noi'walk,  Connecticut,  excited  me  to  such 
a  degree  that  I  was  half-converted  to  the  new  faith  before  I 
had  witnessed  any  spiritual  manifestation.  Soon  after  the 
arrival  of  the  Misses  Fox  in  New  York  I  visited  them  in 
their  rooms  at  the  Howard  House.  Impressed  by  their 
quiet,  natural  demeanor,  the  absence  of  anything  savoring 
of  jugglery,  and  the  peculiar  character  of  the  raps  and 
movements  of  the  table,  I  asked  my  questions  and  applied 
my  tests,  in  a  passive,  if  not  a  believing  frame  of  mind.  In 
fact,  I  had  not  long  been  seated,  before  the  noises  became 
loud  and  frequent. 

"  The  spirits  like  to  communicate  with  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Fish  :  "  you  seem  to  be  nearer  to  them  than  most  people.'' 

I  summoned,  in  succession,  the  spirits  of  my  mother,  a 
younger  brother,  and  a  cousin  to  whom  I  had  been  much 
attached  in  boyhood,  and  obtained  correct  answers  to  all 
my  questions.  I  did  not  then  remark,  what  has  since  oc- 
curred to  me,  that  these  questions  concerned  things  which 
I  knew,  and  that  the  answers  to  them  were  distinctly  im- 

19* 


442  AT   HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

pressed  on  my  mind  at  the  time.  Tlie  result  of  one  of  my 
tests  made  a  very  deep  impression  upon  me.  Having  men- 
tally selected  a  friend  whom  I  had  met  in  the  train  that 
morning,  I  asked, — "  Will  the  spirit  whose  name  is  now  in 
my  mind  communicate  with  me  ?"  To  this  came  the  an- 
swer, slowly  rapped  out,  on  calling  over  the  alphabet, — 
"-Hie  is  living!'''' 

I  returned  home,  very  much  puzzled.  Precisely  those 
features  of  the  exhibition  (let  me  call  it  such)  which  repulse 
others  attracted  me.  The  searching  day-light,  the  plain, 
matter-of-fact  character  of  the  manifestations,  the  absence 
of  all  solemnity  and  mystery,  impressed  me  favorably  to- 
wards the  spiritual  theory.  If  disembodied  souls,  I  said, 
really  exist  and  can  communicate  with  those  in  the  flesh, 
why  should  they  choose  moonlight  or  darkness,  graveyards 
or  lonely  bed-chambers,  for  their  visitations  ?  What  is  to 
hinder  them  from  speaking  at  times  and  in  places  where 
the  senses  of  men  are  fully  awake  and  alert,  rather  than 
when  they  are  liable  to  be  the  dupes  of  the  imagination  ? 
In  such  reflections  as  these  I  was  the  unconscious  dupe  of 
my  own  imagination,  while  supposing  myself  thoroughly 
impartial  and  critical. 

Soon  after  this,  circles  began  to  be  formed  in  my  native 
town,  for  the  purpose  of  table-moving.  A  number  of  per- 
sons met,  secretly  at  first, — for  as  yet  there  were  no  avowed 
converts, — and  quite  as  much  for  sport  as  for  serious  inves- 
tigation. The  first  evening  there  was  no  satisfactory  mani- 
festation. The  table  moved  a  little,  it  is  true,  but  each  one 
laughingly  accused  his  neighbors  of  employing  some  mus- 
cular force :  all  isolated  attempts  were  vain.    I  was  con- 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF   A    MEDIUM.  443 

scious,  nevertheless,  of  a  curious  sensation  of  numbness  iii  the 
arms,  which  recalled  to  mind  my  forgotten  experiments  in 
church.  No  rappiiigs  were  heard,  and  some  of  the  partici- 
pants did  not  scruple  to  pronounce  the  whole  thing  a  delusion. 
A  few  evenings  after  this  we  met  again.  Those  who 
were  most  incredulous  happened  to  be  absent,  while,  acci- 
dentally, their  places  were  filled  by  persons  whose  tempera- 
ments disposed  them  to  a  passive  seriousness.  Among 
these  was  a  girl  of  sixteen.  Miss  Abby  Fetters,  a  pale,  deli- 
cate creature,  with  blond  hair  and  light-blue  eyes.  Chance 
placed  her  next  to  me,  in  forming  the  ring,  and  her  right 
hand  lay  lightly  upou  my  left.  We  stood  around  a  heavy 
circular  dining-table.  A  complete  silence  was  preserved, 
and  all  minds  gradually  sank  into  a  quiet,  passive  expect- 
ancy. In  about  ten  minutes  I  began  to  feel,  or  to  imagine 
that  I  felt,  a  stream  of  light — if  light  were  a  palpable  sub- 
stance— a  something  far  finer  and  more  subtile  than  an 
electric  current,  passing  from  the  hand  of  Miss  Fetters 
through  my  own  into  the  table.  Presently  the  great 
wooden  mass  began  to  move — stopped — moved  again — 
turned  in  a  circle,  we  following,  without  changing  the  posi- 
tion of  our  hands — and  finally  began  to  rock  from  side  to 
side,  with  increasing  violence.  Some  of  the  circle  were 
thix)wn  off  by  the  movements  ;  others  withdrew  their 
hands  in  affright ;  and  but  four,  among  whom  were  Miss 
Fetters  and  myself,  retained  their  hold.  My  outward 
consciousness  appeared  to  be  somewhat  benumbed,  as  if 
by  some  present  fascination  or  approaching  trance,  but  I 
retained  cuiiosity  enough  to  look  at  my  companion.  Her 
eyes,  sparkling  with  a  strange,  steady  light,  were  fixed  upon 


444  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

the  table;  her  breath  came  quick  and  short,  and  her  cheek 
had  lost  every  trace  of  color.  Suddenly,  as  if  by  a  spas- 
modic effort,  she  removed  her  hands ;  I  did  the  same,  and 
the  table  stopped.  She  threw  herself  into  a  seat,  as  if 
exhausted,  yet,  during  the  whole  time,  not  a  muscle  of  the 
hand  which  lay  upon  mine  had  stirred.  I  solemnly  declare 
that  my  own  hands  had  been  equally  passive,  yet  I  expe- 
rienced the  same  feeling  of  fatigue — not  muscular  fatigue, 
but  a  sense  of  deadness^  as  if  every  drop  of  nervous  energy 
had  been  suddenly  taken  from  me. 

Further  experiments,  the  same  evening,  showed  that  we 
two,  either  together  or  alone,  were  able  to  produce  the 
same  phenomena  without  the  assistance  of  the  others  pre- 
sent. We  did  not  succeed,  however,  in  obtaining  any 
answers  to  our  questions,  nor  were  any  of  us  impressed  by 
the  idea  that  the  spirits  of  the  dead  were  among  us.  In 
fact,  these  table-movings  would  not,  of  themselves,  sug- 
gest the  idea  of  a  spiritual  manifestation.  "  The  table  is 
bewitched,"  said  Thompson,  a  hard-headed  young  fellow, 
without  a  particle  of  imagination  ;  and  this  was  really  the 
first  impression  of  all :  some  unknow  n  force,  latent  in  the 
dead  matter,  had  been  called  into  action.  Still,  this  con- 
clusion was  so  strange,  so  incredible,  that  the  agency  of 
supernatural  intelligences  finally  presented  itself  to  my 
mind  as  the  readiest  solution. 

It  was  not  long  before  we  obtained  rappings,  and  were 
enabled  to  repeat  all  the  experiments  which  I  had  tried 
during  my  visit  to  the  Fox  family.  The  spirits  of  our  de- 
ceased relatives  and  friends  announced  themselves,  and 
generally  gave  a  correct  account  of  their  earthly  lives.     I 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF    A   MEDIUM.  445 

must  confess,  however,  that,  whenever  we  attempted  to 
pry  into  the  future,  we  usually  received  answers  as  ambi 
guous  as  those  of  the  Grecian  oracles,  or  predictions  which 
fiiiled  to  be  realized.  Violent  knocks  or  other  unruly 
demonstrations  would  sometimes  interrupt  an  intelligent 
communication  which  promised  us  some  light  on  the  other 
life  :  these,  we  were  told,  were  occasioned  by  evil  or  mis- 
chievous spirits,  whose  delight  it  was  to  create  disturb- 
ances. They  never  occurred,  I  now  remember,  except  when 
Miss  Fetters  was  present.  At  the  time,  we  were  too  much 
absorbed  in  our  researches  to  notice  the  fact. 

The  reader  will  perceive,  from  what  he  knows  of  my  pre- 
vious mental  state,  that  it  was  not  difficult  for  me  to  accept 
the  theories  of  the  Spiritualists.  Here  was  an  evidence  of 
the  immortality  of  the  soul — nay,  more,  of  its  continued 
individuality  through  endless  future  existences.  The  idea 
of  my  individuality  being  lost  had  been  to  me  the  same 
thing  as  complete  annihilation.  The  spirits  themselves 
informed  us  that  they  had  come  to  teach  these  truths.  The 
simple,  ignorant  faith  of  the  Past,  they  said,  was  worn  out ; 
with  the  development  of  science,  the  mind  of  man  had 
become  skeptical ;  the  ancient  fountains  no  longer  sufficed 
for  his  thirst ;  each  new  era  required  a  new  revelation ;  in  all 
former  ages  there  had  been  single  minds  pure  enough  and 
advanced  enough  to  communicate  with  the  dead  and  be  the 
mediums  of  their  messages  to  men,  but  now  the  time  had 
come  when  the  knowledge  of  this  intercourse  must  be 
declared  unto  all ;  in  its  light  the  mysteries  of  the  Past 
became  clear;  in  the  wisdom  thus  imparted,  that  happy 
Future  which  seems  possible  to  every  ardent  and  generous 


446  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

heart  would  be  secured.  I  was  not  troubled  by  tlie  fact 
that  the  messages  which  proclaimed  these  things  were  often 
incori-ectly  spelt,  that  the  grammar  was  bad  and  the  lan- 
guage far  from  elegant.  I  did  not  reflect  that  these  new 
and  sublime  truths  had  formerly  passed  through  my  own 
brain  as  the  dreams  of  a  wandering  imagination.  Like  that 
American  philosopher  who  looks  upon  one  of  his  own  neo- 
phytes as  a  man  of  great  and  profound  mind  because  the 
latter  carefully  remembers  and  repeats  to  him  his  own  care- 
lessly uttered  wisdom,  I  saw  in  these  misty  and  disjointed 
reflections  of  my  own  thoughts  the  precious  revelation  of 
departed  and  purified  spirits. 

How  a  passion  for  the  unknown  and  unattainable  takes 
hold  of  men  is  illustrated  by  the  search  for  the  universal 
solvent,  by  the  mysteries  of  the  Rosicrucians,  by  the  patron- 
age of  fortune-tellers,  even.  Wholly  absorbed  in  spiritual 
researches — having,  in  fact,  no  vital  interest  in  anythiog 
else — I  soon  developed  into  what  is  called  a  Medium.  I 
discovered,  at  the  outset,  that  the  pecuHar  condition  to  be 
attained  before  the  tables  would  begin  to  move  could  be 
produced  at  will.*     I  also  found  that  the  passive  state  into 

*  In  attempting  to  describe  my  own  sensations,  I  labor  under  the  dis- 
advantage of  speaking  mostly  to  those  who  have  never  experienced  any- 
thing of  the  kind.  Hence,  what  would  bo  perfectly  clear  to  myself,  and 
to  those  who  have  passed  through  a  similar  experience,  may  be  unintelli- 
gible to  the  former  class.  The  Spiritualists  excuse  the  crudities  which 
their  Plato,  St.  Paul,  and  Shakspeare  uttor,  by  ascribing  them  to  the  im- 
perfection of  human  language;  and  I  may  claim  the  same  allowance  in 
setting  forth  mental  conditions  of  which  the  mind  itself  can  grasp  no  com- 
plete idea,  seeing  that  its  most  important  faculties  are  paralysed  during  the 
existence  of  those  conditions. 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF    A    MEDIUM.  447 

which  I  naturally  fell  had  a  tendency  to  produce  that  trance 
or  suspension  of  the  will  which  I  had  discovered  when  a 
boy.  External  consciousness,  however,  did  not  wholly 
depart.  I  saw  the  circle  of  inquirers  around  me,  but  dimly, 
and  as  phantoms — while  the  impressions  which  passed  over 
my  brain  seemed  to  wear  visible  forms  and  to  speak  with 
audible  voices. 

I  did  not  doubt,  at  the  time,  that  spirits  visited  me,  and 
that  they  made  use  of  my  body  to  communicate  with  those 
who  could  hear  them  in  no  other  way.  Beside  the  plea- 
sant intoxication  of  the  semi-trance,  I  felt  a  rare  joy  in 
the  knowledge  that  I  was  elected  above  other  men  to  be 
their  interpreter.  Let  me  endeavor  to  describe  the  nature 
of  this  possession.  Sometimes,  even  before  a  spirit  would 
be  called  for,  the  figure  of  the  person,  as  it  existed  in  the 
mind  of  the  inquirer,  would  suddenly  present  itself  to  me 
— not  to  my  outward  senses,  but  to  my  interior,  instinctive 
knowledge.  If  the  recollection  of  the  other  embraced  also 
the  voice,  I  heard  the  voice  in  the  same  manner,  and 
nnconsciously  imitated  it.  The  answers  to  the  questions  I 
knew  by  the  same  instinct,  as  soon  as  the  questions  were 
spoken.  If  the  question  was  vague,  asked  for  information 
rather  than  confirmation,  either  no  answer  came,  or  there 
was  an  impression  of  a  wish  of  what  the  answer  might  be, 
or,  at  times,  some  strange  involuntary  sentence  sprang 
to  my  lips.  When  I  wrote,  my* hand  appeared  to  move  of 
itself;  yet  the  words  it  wrote  invariably  passed  through 
my  mind.  Even  when  blindfolded,  there  was  no  difference 
in  its  performance.  The  same  powers  developed  themselves 
in  a  still  greater  degree  in  Miss  Fetters.    The  spirits  which 


448  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

spoke  most  readily  through  her  were  those  of  men,  even 
coarse  and  rude  characters,  which  came  unsummoned.  Two 
or  three  of  the  other  members  of  our  circle  were  able  to 
produce  motions  in  the  table  ;  they  could  even  feel,  as  they 
asserted,  the  touch  of  spiritual  hands ;  but,  however  much 
they  desired  it,  they  were  never  personally  possessed  as  we, 
and  therefore  could  not  properly  be  called  Mediums. 

These  investigations  were  not  regularly  carried  on. 
Occasionally  the  interest  of  the  circle  flagged,  until  it  was 
renewed  by  the  visit  of  some  apostle  of  the  new  faith, 
usually  accompanied  by  a  "Preaching  Medium."  Among 
those  whose  presence  especially  conduced  to  keep  alive  the 
flame  of  spiritual  inquiry  was  a  gentleman  named  Stilton, 
the  editor  of  a  small  monthly  periodical  entitled  "  Revela- 
tions from  the  Interior."  Without  being  himself  a  Medium, 
he  was  neveitheless  thoroughly  conversant  with  the  various 
phenomena  of  Spiritualism,  and  both  spoke  and  wrote  in 
the  dialect  which  its  followers  adopted.  He  was  a  man  of 
varied,  but  not  profound  learning,  an  active  intellect, 
giving  and  receiving  impressions  with  equal  facility,  and 
with  an  unusual  combination  of  concentrativeness  and 
versatility  in  his  nature.  A  certain  inspiration  was  con- 
nected with  his  presence.  His  personality  overflowed  upon 
and  influenced  others.  "  My  mind  is  not  sufficiently  sub- 
missive," he  would  say,  "  to  receive  impressions  from  the 
spirits,  but  my  atmosphere  attracts  them,  and  encourages 
them  to  speak."  He  was  a  stout,  strongly  built  man,  with 
coarse  black  hair,  gray  eyes,  large  animal  mouth,  square 
jaws,  and  short,  thick  neck.  Had  his  hair  been  cropped 
close,  he  would  have  looked  very  much  like  a  prize-fighter  : 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF   A    MEDIUM.  449 

but  he  wore  it  long,  parted  in  the  middle,  and  as  meek  in 
expression  as  its  stiff  waves  would  allow. 

Stilton  soon  became  the  controlling  spirit  of  our  circle. 
His  presence  really  seemed,  as  he  said,  to  encourage  the 
spirits.  Never  before  had  the  manifestations  been  so  abun- 
dant or  so  surprising.  Miss  Fetters,  especially,  astonished 
us  by  the  vigor  of  her  possessions.  Not  only  Samson  and 
Peter  the  Great,  but  Gibbs  the  Pirate,  Black  Hawk,  and 
Joe  Manton,  who  had  died  the  previous  year  in  a  fit  of 
delirinm-tremens,  prophesied,  strode,  swoi'e,  and  smashed 
things  in  turn,  by  means  of  her  frail  little  body.  As  Cribb, 
a  noted  pugilist  of  the  last  century,  she  floored  an  incau- 
tious spectator,  giving  him  a  black  eye  which  he  wore  for 
a  fortnight  afterwards.  Singularly  enough,  my  visitors 
were  of  the  opposite  cast.  Hypatia,  Petrarch,  Mary  Mag- 
dalen, Abelard,  and,  oftenest  of  all,  Shelley,  proclaimed 
mystic  truths  fi'om  my  lips.  They  usually  spoke  in  inspired 
monologues,  without  announcing  themselves  beforehand, 
and  often  without  giving  any  cluie  to  their  personality.  A 
practised  stenographer,  engaged  by  Mr.  Stilton,  took  down 
many  of  these  communications  as  they  were  spoken,  and 
they  were  afterwards  published  in  the  "  Revelations."  It 
was  also  remarked,  that,  while  Miss  Fetters  employed  vio- 
lent gestures,  and  seemed  to  possess  a  superhuman  strength, 
I,  on  the  contrary,  sat  motionless,  pale,  and  with  little  sign 
of  life  except  in  my  voice,  which,  though  low,  was  clear 
and  di-amatic  in  its  modulations.  Stilton  explained  this 
difference  without  hesitation.  "  Miss  Abby,"  he  said, 
"  possesses  soul-matter  of  a  texture  to  which  the  souls  of 
these  strong  men  naturally  adhere.     In  the  spirit-land  the 


450  AT   HOME    AND   ABROAD. 

superfluities  repel  each  other  ;  the  individual  souls  seek  to 
remedy  their  imperfections :  in  the  imion  of  opposites  only 
is  to  be  found  the  great  harraonia  of  life.  You,  John, 
move  upon  another  plane  ;  through  what  in  you  is  unde- 
veloped, these  developed  spirits  are  attracted." 

For  two  or  three  years,  I  must  admit,  my  life  was  a  very 
happy  one.  Not  only  were  those  occasional  trances  an 
intoxication,  nay,  a  coveted  indulgence,  but  they  cast  a 
consecration  over  my  life.  My  restored  faith  rested  on  the 
sure  evidence  of  my  own  experience ;  my  new  creed  con- 
tained no  harsh  or  repulsive  feature  ;  I  heard  the  same 
noble  sentiments  which  I  uttered  in  such  moments  repeated, 
by  my  associates  in  the  faith,  and  I  devoutly  believed  that 
a  complete  regeneration  of  the  human  race  was  at  hand. 
Nevertheless,  it  struck  me  sometimes  as  singular  that  many 
of  the  Mediums  wliom  I  met — men  and  women  chosen  by 
spiritual  hands  to  the  same  high  office — excited  in  my  mind 
that  instinct  of  repulsion  on  which  I  had  learned  to  rely  as 
a  sufficient  reason  for  avoiding  certain  persons.  Far  as  it 
would  have  been  from  my  mind,  at  that  time,  to  question 
the  manifestations  which  accompanied  them,  I  could  not 
smother  my  mistrust  of  their  characters.  Miss  Fetters, 
whom  I  so  frequently  met,  was  one  of  the  most  disagree- 
able. Her  cold,  thin  lips,  pale  eyes,  and  lean  figure  gave 
me  a  singular  impression  of  voracious  hunger.  Her  pre- 
sence was  often  announced  to  me  by  a  chill  shudder,  before 
I  saw  her.  Centuries  ago  one  of  her  ancestors  must  have 
been  a  ghoul  or  vampire.  The  trance  of  possession  seemed, 
with  her,  to  be  a  form  of  dissipation,  in  which  she  indulged 
as  she  might  have  catered  for  a  baser  appetite.    The  new 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OP   A    MEDIUM.  451 

religion  was  nothing  to  her ;  I  believe  she  valued  it  only  on 
account  of  the  importance  she  obtained  among  its  follow- 
ers. Her  father,  a  vain,  weak-minded  man,  who  kept  a 
grocery  in  the  town,  was  himself  a  convert. 

Stilton  had  an  answer  for  every  doubt.  No  matter  hoAV 
tangled  a  labyrinth  might  be  exhibited  to  him,  he  walked 
straight  through  it. 

"  How  is  it,"  I  asked  him,  "  that  so  many  of  my  fellow- 
mediums  inspire  me  Avith  an  instinctive  dislike  and  mis- 
trust ?  " 

"  By  mistrust  you  mean  dislike,"  he  answered ;  "  since 
you  know  of  no  reason  to  doubt  their  characters.  The 
elements  of  soul-matter  are  differently  combined  in  different 
individuals,  and  there  are  affinities  and  repulsions,  just  as 
there  are  in  the  chemical  elements.  Tour  feeling  is  che- 
mical, not  moral.  A  want  of  affinity  does  not  necessarily 
imply  an  existing  evil  in  the  other  party.  In  the  present 
ignorance  of  the  world,  our  true  affinities  can  only  be 
imperfectly  felt  and  indulged  ;  and  the  entire  freedom 
which  we  shall  obtain  in  this  respect  is  the  greatest  happi- 
ness of  the  spirit-life." 

Another  time  I  asked — 

"  How  is  it  that  the  spirits  of  great  authors  speak  so 
tamely  to  us  ?  Shakspeare,  last  night,  wrote  a  passage 
■which  he  would  have  been  heartily  ashamed  of,  as  a  living 
man.  We  know  that  a  spirit  spoke,  calling  himself  Shak- 
speare ;  but,  judging  from  his  communication,  it  could  not 
have  been  he." 

"  It  probably  was  not,"  said  Mr.  Stilton.  "  I  am  con- 
vinced that  all  malicious  spirits  ai'e  at  work  to  interrupt 


452  AT   HOME  AND   ABROAD. 

the  communications  from  the  higher  spheres.  We  were 
thus  deceived  by  one  professing  to  be  Benjamin  Franklin, 
who  drew  for  us  the  plan  of  a  machine  for  splitting  shin- 
gles, which  we  had  fabricated  and  patented  at  considerable 
expense.  On  trial,  however,  it  proved  to  be  a  miserable 
failure,  a  complete  mockery.  When  the  sj^irit  was  again 
summoned  he  refused  to  speak,  but  shook  the  table  to 
express  his  malicious  laughter,  went  off,  and  has  never 
since  returned.  My  friend,  we  know  but  the  alphabet  of 
Spiritualism,  the  mere  ABC;  we  can  no  more  expect  to 
master  the  immortal  language  in  a  day  than  a  child  to  read 
Plato  after  learning  his  letters." 

Many  of  those  who  had  been  interested  in  the  usual 
phenomena  gradually  dropped  off,  tired,  and  perhaps  a 
little  ashamed,  in  the  reaction  following  their  excitement ; 
but  there  were  continual  accessions  to  our  ranks,  and  we 
formed,  at  last,  a  distinct  clan  or  community.  Indeed,  the 
number  of  secret  believers  in  Spiritualism  would  never  be 
suspected  by  the  uninitiated.  In  the  sect,  however,  as  in 
Masonry,  and  the  Catholic  Church,  there  are  circles  within 
circles — concentric  rings,  whence  you  can  look  outwards, 
but  not  inwards,  and  where  he  alone  who  stands  at  the 
centre  is  able  to  perceive  everything.  Such  an  inner  circle 
was  at  last  formed  in  our  town.  Its  object,  according  to 
Stilton,  with  whom  the  plan  originated,  was  to  obtain  a 
purer  spiritual  atmosphere,  by  the  exclusion  of  all  but 
Mediums,  and  those  non-mediumistic  believers  in  whose 
presence  the  spirits  felt  at  ease,  and  thus  invite  communi- 
cations from  the  farther  and  purer  spheres. 

In  fact,  the  result  seemed  to  justify  the  plan.    The  cha- 


THE  CONFESSIONS    OF  A   MEDIUM.  453 

racter  of  the  trance,  as  I  had  frequently  observed,  is  vitiated 
by  the  consciousness  that  disbelievers  are  present.  The 
more  perfect  the  atmosphere  of  credulity,  the  more  satis- 
factory the  manifestations.  The  expectant  company,  the 
dim  light,  the  conviction  that  a  wonderful  revelation  was 
about  to  dawn  upon  us,  excited  my  imagination,  and  my 
trance  was  really  a  sort  of  delirium,  in  which  I  spoke  with 
a  passion  and  an  eloquence  I  had  never  before  exhibited. 
The  fear,  which  had  previously  haunted  me,  at  times,  of 
giving  my  brain  and  tongue  into  the  control  of  an  unknown 
power,  was  forgotten  ;  yet,  more  than  ever,  I  was  conscious 
of  some  strong  controlling  influence,  and  experienced  a 
reckless  pleasure  in  permitting  myself  to  be  governed  by  it. 
"  Prepare,"  I  concluded,  (I  quote  from  the  report  in  the 
"  Revelations,")  "  prepare,  sons  of  men,  for  the  dawning 
day !  Prepare  for  the  second  and  perfect  regeneration  of 
man !  For  the  prison-chambers  have  been  broken  into,  and 
the  light  from  the  interior  shall  illuminate  the  external! 
Ye  shall  enjoy  spiiitual  and  passional  freedom ;  your  guides 
shall  no  longer  be  the  despotism  of  ignorant  laws,  nor  the 
whip  of  an  imaginary  conscience, — but  the  natural  impulses 
of  your  nature,  which  are  the  melody  of  Life,  and  the  natu- 
ral affinities,  which  are  its  harmony !  The  reflections  from 
the  upper  spheres  shall  irradiate  the  lower,  and  Death  is 
the  triumphal  arch  through  which  we  pass  from  glory  to 
glory !" 

I  have  here  paused,  deliberating  whether  I  should 

proceed  farther  in  my  narrative.  But  no ;  if  any  good  is 
to  be  accomplished  by  these  confessions,  the  reader  must 
walk  with  me  through  the  dark  labyrinth  which  follows. 


454  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

He  must  walk  over  what  may  be  considered  delicate  ground, 
but  he  shall  not  be  harmed.  One  feature  of  the  trance 
condition  is  too  remarkable,  too  important  in  its  conse- 
quences to  be  overlooked.  It  is  a  feature  of  which  many 
Mediums  are  undoubtedly  ignorant,  the  existence  of 
which  is  not  even  suspected  by  thousands  of  honest 
Spiritualists. 

Let  me  again  anticij^ate  the  regular  course  of  my  narra- 
tive, and  explain.  A  suspension  of  the  Will,  when  indulged 
in  for  any  length  of  time,  produces  a  suspension  of  that 
inward  consciousness  of  good  and  evil  which  we  call  Con- 
science, and  which  can  be  actively  exercised  only  through 
the  medium  of  the  Will.  The  mental  faculties  and  the 
moral  perceptions  lie  down  together  in  the  same  passive 
sleep.  The  subject  is,  therefore,  equally  liable  to  receive 
impressions  from  the  minds  of  others,  and  from  their  pas- 
sions and  lusts.  Besides  this,  the  germs  of  all  good  and  of 
all  evil  are  implanted  in  the  nature  of  every  human  being ; 
and  even  when  some  appetite  is  buried  in  a  crypt  so  deep 
that  its  existence  is  forgotten,  let  the  warder  be  removed, 
and  it  will  gradually  work  its  way  to  the  light.  Persons 
in  the  receptive  condition  which  belongs  to  the  trance  may 
be  surrounded  by  honest  and  pure-minded  individuals,  and 
receive  no  harmful  impressions;  they  may  even,  if  of  a 
healthy  spiritual  temperament,  resist  for  a  time  the  aggres- 
sions of  evil  influences ;  but  the  final  danger  is  always  the 
same.  The  state  of  the  Medium,  therefore,  may  be  described 
as  one  in  which  the  Will  is  passive,  the  Conscience  passive, 
the  outward  senses  partially  (sometimes  wholly)  suspended, 
the  mind  helplessly  subject  to  the  operations  of  other  minds, 


THE   CONFESSIONS   OF   A   MEDIUM.  455 

and  the  passions  and  desires  released  from  all  restraining 
influences.*  I  make  the  statement  boldly,  after  long  and 
careful  reflection,  and  severe  self-examination. 

As  I  said  before,  I  did  not  entirely  lose  my  external  con- 
sciousness, although  it  was  very  dim  and  dream-like.  On 
returning  to  the  natural  state,  my  recollection  of  what  had 
occurred  during  the  trance  became  equally  dim  ;  but  I 
retained  a  general  impression  of  the  character  of  the  pos- 
session. I  knew  that  some  foreign  influence — the  spirit  of 
a  dead  poet,  or  hero,  or  saint,  I  then  believed — governed 
me  for  the  time ;  that  I  gave  utterance  to  thoughts  unfa- 
miHar  to  my  mind  in  its  conscious  state  ;  and  that  my  own 
individuality  was  lost,  or  so  disguised  that  I  could  no  longer 
recognize  it.  This  very  circumstance  made  the  trance  an 
indulgence,  a  spiritual  intoxication,  no  less  fascinating  than 
that  of  the  body,  although  accompanied  by  a  similar  reac- 
tion. Yet,  behind  all,  dimly  evident  to  me,  there  was  an 
element  of  terror.  There  were  times  when,  back  of  the 
influences  which  spoke  with  my  voice,  rose  another — avast, 
overwhelming,  threatening  power,  the  nature  of  which  I 
could  not  grasp,  but  wliich  I  knew  was  evil.  Even  when 
in  my  natural  state,  listening  to  the  harsh  utterances  of 
Miss  Fetters  or  the  lofty  spiritual  philosophy  of  Mr.  Stilton, 
I  have  felt  for  a  single  second,  the  touch  of  an  icy  wind, 
accompanied  by  a  sensation  of  unutterable  dread. 

Our  secret  circle  had  not  held  many  sessions  before  a 

*  Tlie  recent  experiments  in  Hypnotism,  in  France,  sliow  that  a  verj 
similar  psychological  condition  accompanies  the  trance  produced  by  gazing 
fixedl)'  upon  a  bright  object  held  near  the  eyes.  I  have  no  doubt,  in  fact, 
that  it  belongs  to  every  abnormal  state  of  the  mind. 


456  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

remarkable  change  took  place  in  the  character  of  the  reve- 
lations.    Mr.  Stilton  ceased  to  report  them  for  his  paper. 

"  We  are  on  the  threshold  at  last,"  said  he ;  "  the  secrets 
of  the  ages  lie  beyond.  The  hands  of  sj)irits  are  now  lifting 
the  veil,  fold  by  fold.  Let  us  not  be  startled  by  what  we 
hear :  let  us  show  that  our  eyes  can  bear  the  light — that 
we  are  competent  to  receive  the  wisdom  of  the  higher 
spheres,  and  live  according  to  it." 

Miss  Fetters  was  more  than  ever  possessed  by  the  spirit 
of  Joe  Manton,  whose  allowance  of  grog  having  been  cut 
off  too  suddenly  by  his  death,  he  was  continually  clamoring 
for  a  dram.  '^I  tell  you,"  yelled  he,  or  rather  she,  "I 
won't  stand  sich  meanness.  I  ha'n't  come  all  the  way  here 
for  nothin'.  I'll  knock  Erasmus  all  to  thunder,  if  you  go 
for  to  turn  me  out  dry,  and  let  him  come  in.". 

Mr.  Stilton  thereupon  handed  him,  or  her,  a  tumbler 
half-full  of  brandy,  which  she  gulped  down  at  a  single 
swallow.  Joe  Manton  presently  retired  to  make  room  for 
Erasmus,  who  spoke  for  some  time  in  Latin,  or  what 
appeared  to  be  Latin.  None  of  us  could  make  much  of  it; 
but  Mr.  Stilton  declared  that  the  Latin  pronunciation  of 
Erasmus  was  probably  different  from  ours,  or  that  he  might 
have  leai-ned  the  true  Roman  accent  from  Cicero  and  Seneca, 
with  whom,  doubtless,  he  was  now  on  intimate  terms.  As 
Erasmus  generally  concluded  by  throwing  his  arms,  or 
rather  the  arms  of  Miss  Fetters,  around  the  neck  of  Mr. 
Stilton — his  spirit  fraternizing,  apparently,  with  the  spirit 
of  the  latter — we  greatly  regretted  that  his  communications 
were  unintelligible,  on  account  of  the  superior  wisdom 
which  they  might  be  supposed  to  contain. 


THE   COXFESSIOXS    OF    A    MEDIUM.  457 

T  confess,  I  cannot  recall  the  part  I  played  in  what  would 
have  been  a  pitiable  farce,  if  it  had  not  been  so  terribly 
tragical,  without  a  feeling  of  utter  shame.  Nothing  but 
my  profound  symj^athy  for  the  thousands  and  tens  of  thou- 
sands who  are  still  subject  to  the  same  delusion  could  com- 
pel me  to  such  a  sacrifice  of  pride.  Curiously  enough  (as 
I  thought  then^  but  not  now),  the  enunciation  of  sentiments 
opposed  to  my  moral  sense — the  abolition,  in  fact,  of  all 
moral  restraint — came  from  my  lips,  while  the  actions  of 
Miss  Fitters  hinted  at  their  practical  application.  Upon 
the  ground  that  the  interests  of  the  soul  were  paramount  to 
all  human  laws  and  customs,  I  declared — or  rather,  my 
voice  declared — that  self  denial  was  a  fatal  error,  to  which 
half  the  misery  of  mankind  could  be  traced;  that  the  pas- 
sions, held  as  slaves,  exhibited  only  the  brutish  nature  of 
slaves,  and  would  be  exalted  and  glorified  by  entire  free- 
dom ;  and  that  our  sole  guidance  ought  to  come  from  the 
voices  of  the  spirits  who  communicated  with  us,  instead  of 
the  imperfect  laws  constructed  by  our  benighted  fellow-men. 
How  clear  and  logical,  how^iofty,  these  doctrines  seemed  ! 
If,  at  times,  something  in  their  nature  repelled  me,  I  simply 
attributed  it  to  the  fact  that  I  was  still  but  a  neophyte  in 
the  Spiritual  Philosophy,  and  incapable  of  perceiving  the 
truth  with  entire  clearness. 

Mr.'  Stilton  had  a  wife, — one  of  those  meek,  amiable, 
simple-hearted  Avomen  whose  individuality  seems  to  be 
completely  absorbed  into  that  of  their  husbands.  When 
such  women  are  wedded  to  frank,  tender,  protecting  men, 
their  lives  are  truly  blessed ;  but  they  are  willing  slaves  to 
the  domestic  tyrant.     They  bear  uncomplainingly, — many 

20 


4'58  AT    HOME    AND    ABUOAD. 

of  them  even  without  a  thought  of  coinj)laint, — and  die  at 
last  with  their  hearts  full  of  love  for  the  brutes  who  have 
trampled  upon  them.  Mrs.  Stilton  Avas  perhaps  forty  years 
of  age,  of  middle  height,  moderately  plump  in  person,  with 
light-brown  hair,  soft,  inexpressive  gray  eyes,  and  a  meek, 
helpless,  imploring  mouth.  Her  voice  was  mild  and  plain- 
tive, and  its  accents  of  anger  (if  she  ever  gave  utterance  to 
such)  could  not  have  been  distinguished  from  those  of  grief. 
She  did  not  often  attend  our  sessions,  and  it  was  evident, 
that,  while  she  endeavored  to  comprehend  the  revelations, 
in  order  to  please  her  husband,  their  import  was  very  far 
beyond  her  comprehension.  She  was  now  and  then  a  little 
frightened  at  utterances  which  no  doubt  sounded  lewd  or 
profane  to  her  ears ;  but  ai'tcr  a  glance  at  Mr.  Stilton's  face, 
and  finding  that  it  betrayed  neither  horror  nor  surprise, 
would  persuade  herself  that  everything  must  be  right. 

"  Are  you  sure,"  she  once  timidly  whispered  to  me,  "  are 

you  very  sure,  Mr. ,  that  there  is  no  danger  of  being 

led  astray  ?  It  seems  strange  to  me ;  but  perhaps  I  don't 
understand  it.''  • 

Her  question  was  so  indefinite,  that  I  found  it  difficult 
to  answer.  Stilt6n,  however,  seeing  me  engaged  in  endea- 
voring to  make  clear  to  her  the  glories  of  the  new  truth, 
exclaimed, — 

"That's  right,  John !  Your  spiritual  plane  slants  through 
many  spheres,  and  has  points  of  contact  with  a  great  vari- 
ety of  souls.  I  hope  my  wife  will  be  able  to  see  the  light 
through  you,  since  I  appear  to  be  too  opaque  for  her  to 
receive  it  from  me." 

"  Oh,  Abijah ! "  said  the  poor  woman,  "  you  know  it  is 


THE   CONFESSIONS   OF   A   MEDIUM.  459 

my  fault.  I  try  to  follow,  and  I  hope  I  have  faith,  though 
I  don't  see  everything  as  clearly  as  you  do.'.' 

I  began  also  to  have  my  own  doubts,  as  I  perceived  that 
an  "  affinity  "  was  gradually  being  developed  between  Stil- 
ton and  Miss  Fetters.  She  was  more  and  more  frequently 
possessed  by  the  spirit  of  Erasmus,  whose  salutations,  on 
meeting  and  parting  with  his  brother-philosopher,  were  too 
enthusiastic  for  merely  masculine  love.  But,  whenever  I 
hinted  at  the  possibility  of  mistaking  the  impulses  of  the 
soul,  or  at  evil  resulting  fi"om  a  too  sudden  and  univex'sal 
liberation  of  the  passions,  Stilton  always  silenced  me  with 
his  inevitable  logic.  Having  once  accepted  the  premises, 
I  could  not  avoid  the  conclusions. 

"  When  our  natures  are  in  harmony  with  spirit-matter 
throughout  the  spheres,''  he  would  say,  "  our  impulses 
will  always  be  in  accordance.  Or,  if  there  should  be  any 
temporary  disturbance,  arising  from  our  necessary  inter- 
course with  the  gross,  blinded  multitude,  we  can  always 
fly  to  our  spiritual  monitors  for  counsel.  Will  not  they, 
the  immortal  souls  of  the  ages  past,  who  have  guided  us 
to  a  knowledge  of  the  truth,  assist  us  also  in  preserving  it 
pure  ?  " 

In  spite  of  this,  in  spite  of  my  admiration  of  Stilton's 
intellect,  and  my  yet  unshaken  faith  in  Spiritualism,  I  was 
conscious  that  the  harmony  of  the  circle  was  becoming 
impaired  in  me.  Was  I  falling  behind  in  spiritual  progress  ? 
Was  I  too  weak  to  be  the  medium  fqr  the  promised  reve- 
lations ?  I  threw  myself  again  and  again  into  the  trance, 
with  a  recklessness  of  soul  which  fitted  me  to  receive  any, 
even  the  darkest  impressions,  to  catch  and  proclaim  every 


460  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

guilty  whisper  of  the  senses,  and,  while  under  the  influence 
of  the  excitement,  to  exult  in  the  age  of  license  which  I 
believed  to  be  at  hand.  But  darker,  stronger  grew  the 
terror  which  lurked  behind  this  sj^iritual  carnival.  A  more 
tremendous  power  than  that  which  I  now  recognized  as 
coming  from  Stilton's  brain  was  present,  and  I  saw  myself 
whirling  nearer  and  nearer  to  its  grasp.  I  felt,  by  a  sort 
of  blind  instinct,  too  vague  to  be  expressed,  that  some  de- 
moniac agency  had  thrust  itself  into  the  manifestations, — 
perhaps  had  been  mingled  with  them  from  the  outset. 

For  two  or  three  months,  my  life  was  the  strangest  mix- 
ture of  happiness  and  misery.  I  walked  about  with  the 
sense  of  some  crisis  hanging  over  me.  My  "  possessions  " 
became  fiercer  and  wilder,  and  the  reaction  so  much  more 
exhausting  that  I  fell  into  the  habit  of  restoring  myself  by 
means  of  the  bottle  of  brandy  which  Mr.  Stilton  took  care 
should  be  on  hand,  in  case  of  a  visit  from  Joe  Manton. 
Miss  Fetters,  strange  to  say,  was  not  in  the  least  affected 
by  the  powerful  draughts  she  imbibed.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  my  waking  life  was  growing  brighter  and  brighter 
under  the  power  of  a  new  and  delicious  experience.  My 
nature  is  eminently  social,  and  I  had  not  been  able — indeed, 
I  did  not  desire — wholly  to  withdraw  myself  from  inter- 
course with  non-believers.  There  was  too  much  in  society 
that  was  congenial  to  me  to  be  given  up.  My  instinctive 
dislike  to  Miss  Abby  Fetters,  and  my  compassionate  regard 
for  Mrs.  Stilton's  weakness,  only  served  to  render  the  com- 
pany of  intelligent,  cultivated  women  more  attractive  to 
me.  Among  those  whom  I  met  most  frequently  was  Miss 
Agnea  Iloneywood,  a  calm,  quiet,  unobtrusive   girl,  the 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF   A   MEDIUM.  461 

characteristic  of  whose  face  was  sweetness  rather  than 
beauty,  while  thd  first  feeling  she  inspired  was  respect 
rather  than  admiration.  She  had  just  that  amount  of  self- 
possession  which  conceals  without  conquering  the  sweet 
timidity  of  woman.  Her  voice  was  low,  yet  clear;  and 
her  mild  eyes,  I  found,  were  capable,  on  occasion,  of  both 
flashing  and  melting.  Why  describe  her?  I  loved  her 
before  I  knew  it ;  but,  with  the  consciousness  of  my  love,  that 
clairvoyant  sense  on  which  I  learned  to  depend  failed  for 
the  first  time.  Did  she  love  me  ?  When  I  sought  to  an- 
swer the  question  in  her  presence,  all  was  confusion  within. 

This  was  not  the  only  new  influence  which  entered  into 
and  increased  the  tumult  of  my  mind.  The  other  half  of 
my  two-sided  nature — the  cool,  reflective,  investigating 
faculty — had  been  gradually  ripening,  and  the  questions 
which  it  now  began  to  present  seriously  disturbed  the 
complacency  of  my  theories.  I  saw  that  I  had  accepted 
many  things  on  very  unsatisfactory  evidence  ;  but,  on  the 
other  hand,  there  was  much  for  which  I  could  find  no  other 
explanation.  Let  me  be  frank,  and  say,  that  I  do  not  now 
pretend  to  explain  all  the  phenomena  of  Spiritualism.  This, 
however,  I  determined  to  do, — to  ascertain,  if  possible, 
whether  the  influences  which  governed  me  in  the  trance 
state  came  from  the  persons  around,  from  the  exercise  of 
some  independent  faculty  of  my  own  mind,  or  really  and 
truly  from  the  spirits  of  the  dead.  Mr.  Stilton  appeared 
to  notice  that  some  internal  conflict  was  going  on  ;  but  he 
said  nothing  in  regard  to  it,  and,  as  events  proved,  he 
entirely  miscalculated  its  character. 

I  said  to  myself. — "  If  this  chaos  continues,  it  will  drive 


4G2  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

me  mad.  Let  me  have  one  bit  of  solid  earth  beneath  my 
feet,  and  I  can  stand  until  it  subsides.  Let  me  throw  over 
tb€  best  bower  of  the  heart,  since  all  the  anchors  of  the 
mind  are  dragging!"  I  summoned  resolution.  I  made 
that  desperate  venture  which  no  true  man  makes  without  a 
pang  of  forced  courage;  but,  thank  God!  I  did  not  make 
it  in  vain.  Agnes  loved  me,  and  in  the  deep,  quiet  bliss 
which  this  knowledge  gave  I  felt  the  promise  of  deliver- 
ance. She  knew  and  lamented  my  connexion  with  the 
Spiritualists ;  but,  perceiving  my  mental  condition  from  the 
few  intimations  which  I  dared  to  give  her,  discreetly  held 
her  peace.  But  I  could  read  the  anxious  expression  of  that 
gentle  face  none  the  less. 

My  first  endeavor  to  solve  the  new  questions  was  to  check 
the  abandon  of  the  trance  condition,  and  interfuse  it  with 
more  of  sober  consciousness.  •  It  was  a  difficult  task ;  and 
nothing  but  the  circumstance  that  my  consciousness  had 
never  been  entirely  lost  enabled  me  to  make  any  progress. 
I  finally  succeeded,  as  I  imagined  (certainty  is  impossible), 
in  separating  the  difierent  influences  which  impressed  me — 
perceiving  where  one  terminated  and  the  other  commenced, 
or  /vhere  two  met  and  my  mind  vibrated  from  one  to  the 
other  until  the  stronger  prevailed,  or  where  a  thought 
which  seemed  to  originate  in  my  own  brain  took  the  lead 
and  swept  away  with  me  like  the  mad  rush  of  a  prairie  colt. 
When  out  of  the  trance,  I  noticed  attentively  the  expres- 
sions made  use  of  by  Mr.  Stilton  and  the  other  members  of 
the  circle,  and  was  surprised  to  find  how  many  of  them  I 
had  reproduced.  But  might  they  not,  in  the  first  place, 
have  been  derived  from  me  ?     And  what  was  the  vague, 


THE    CONFESSIONS    OF    A    MEDIUM.  403 

dark  Presence  which  still  overshadowed  me  at  such  times  ? 
What  was  that  power  which  I  had  tempted — which  we 
were  all  tempting,  every  time  we  met — and  which  continu- 
ally drew  nearer  and  became  more  threatening  ?  I  knew 
not;  and  I  know  not.  I  would  rather  not  speak  or  think 
of  it  any  more. 

My  suspicions  with  regard  to  Stilton  and  Miss  Fetters, 
were  confirmed  by  a  number  of  circumstances  which  I  need 
not  describe.  That  he  should  treat  his  wife  in  a  harsh, 
ironical  manner,  which  the  poor  woman  felt,  but  could  not 
understand,  did  not  surprise  me  ;  but  at  other  times  there 
was  a  treacherous  tenderness  about  him.  He  would  dilate 
eloquently  upon  the  bliss  of  living  in  accordance  with  the 
spiritual  harmonies.  Among  ws,  he  said,  there  could  be  no 
more  hatred  or  mistrust  or  jealousy — nothing  but  love, 
pure,  unselfish,  perfect  love.  "  You,  my  dear,''  (turning 
to  Mrs,  Stilton,)  "  belong  to  a  sphere  which  is  included 
within  my  own,  and  share  in  my  harmonies  and  affinities ; 
yet  the  soul-matter  which  adheres  to  you  is  of  a  different 
texture  from  mine.  Yours  has  also  its  independent  affini- 
ties ;  I  see  and  respect  them ;  and  even  though  they  might 
lead  our  bodies — our  outward,  material  lives — away  from 
one  another,  we  should  still  be  true  to  that  glorious  light 
of  love  which  permeates  all  soul-matter," 

"  Oh,  Abijah !"  cried  Mrs.  Stilton,  really  distressed, 
"  how  can  you  say  such  a  thmg  of  me  ?  You  know  I  can 
never  adhere  to  anybody  else  but  you !" 

Stilton  would  then  call  in  my  aid  to  explain  his  meaning, 
asserting  that  I  had  a  faculty  of  reaching  his  wife's  intel- 
lect, wluch  he  did  not  himself  possess.    Feeling  a  certain 


464  AT   HOME    AXD    ABROAD. 

sympathy  for  her  paiuful  confusion  of  mind,  I  did  my  best 
to  give  his  words  an  interpretation  which  soothed  her  fears. 
Then  she  begged  his  i)ardon,  taking  all  the  blame  to  her 
own  stupidity,  and  received  his  grudged,  unwilling  kiss 
with  a  restored  happiness  which  pained  me  to  the  heart. 

I  had  a  growing  presentiment  of  some  approaching  cata- 
8troj)he.  I  felt,  distinctly,  the  presence  of  unhallowed  pas- 
sions in  our  circle  ;  and  my  steadfast  love  for  Agnes,  borne 
thither  in  my  bosom,  seemed  like  a  pure  white  dove  in  a 
cage  of  unclean  birds,  Stilton  held  me  from  him  by  the 
superior  strength  of  his  intellect.  I  began  to  mistrust,  even 
to  hate  him,  while  I  was  still  subject  to  his  power,  and  una- 
ble to  acquaint  him  with  the  change  in  my  feelings.  Miss 
Fetters  was  so  repulsive  that  I  never  spoke  to  her  when  it 
could  be  avoided.  I  had  tolerated  her,  heretofore,  for  the 
sake  of  her  spiritual  gift ;  but  now,  when  I  began  to  doubt 
the  authenticity  of  that  gift,  her  hungry  eyes,  her  thin  lips, 
her  flat  breast,  and  cold,  dry  hands  excited  in  me  a  sensa- 
tion of  absolute  abhorrence. 

The  doctrine  of  affinities  had  some  time  before  been 
adopted  by  the  circle,  as  a  part  of  the  Spiritual  Truth. 
Other  circles,  with  v\'hich  we  were  in  communication,  had 
also  received  the  same  revelation  ;  and  the  ground  upon 
which  it  was  based,  in  fact,  rendered  its  acceptance  easy. 
Even  I,  shielded  as  I  was  by  the  protecting  arms  of  a  pin*e 
love,  sought  in  vain  for  arguments  to  refute  a  doctrine,  the 
practical  operation  of  which,  I  saw,  might  be  so  dangerous. 
The  soul  had  a  right  to  seek  its  kindred  soul :  that  I  could 
not  deny.  Having  found,  they  belonged  to  each  other. 
Love  is  the  only  law  wliich  those  who  love  are  bound  to 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF   A    MEDIUM.  465 

obey.  I  shall  not  repeat  all  the  sophistiy  whereby  these 
positions  were  strengthened.  The  doctrine  soon  blossomed 
and  bore  fruit,  the  nature  of  which  left  no  doubt  as  to  the 
character  of  the  tree. 

The  catastrophe  came  sooner  than  I  had  anticipated,  and 
partly  through  my  own  instrumentality  ;  though,  in  any 
case,  it  must  finally  have  come.  We  were  met  together  at 
the  house  of  one  of  the  most  zealous  and  fanatical  believ- 
ers. There  were  but  eight  persons  present — the  host  and 
his  wife,  (an  equally  zealous  proselyte,)  a  middle-aged 
bachelor  neighbor,  Mr,  and  Mrs.  Stilton,  Miss  Fetters  and 
her  father,  and  myself  It  was  a  still,  cloudy,  sultry  eve- 
ning, after  one  of  those  dull,  oppressive  days  when  all  the 
bad  blood  in  a  man  seems  to  be  uppei'most  in  his  veins. 
The  manifestations  upon  the  table,  with  which  we  com- 
menced, were  imusually  rapid  and  lively.  "  I  am  convinced," 
said  Mr.  Stilton,  "  that  we  shall  receive  important  revela- 
tions to-night.  My  own  mind  possesses  a  clearness  and 
quickness,  which,  I  have  noticed,  always  precede  the  visit 
of  a  superior  spirit.  Let  us  be  passive  and  receptive,  my 
friends.  We  are  but  instruments  in  the  hands  of  loftier 
intelligences, and  only  through  our  obedience  can  this  second 
advent  of  Truth  be  fulfilled." 

He  looked  at  me  with  that  expression  which  T  so  well 
knew,  as  the  signal  for  a  surrender  of  my  will.  I  had  come 
rather  unwillingly,  for  I  was  getting  heartily  tired  of  the 
business,  and  longed  to  shake  oflf  my  habit  of  (spiritual) 
intoxication,  which  no  longer  possessed  any  attraction, 
since  I  had  been  allowed  to  visit  Agnes  as  an  accepted  lover. 
In  fact,  I  continued  to  hold  my  place  in  the  circle  princi- 

20* 


466  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD, 

pally  for  the  sake  of  satisfying  myself  with  regard  to  the 
real  nature  and  causes  of  the  phenomena.  On  this  night, 
something  in  Mr.  Stilton's  face  arrested  my  attention,  and 
a  rapid  inspiration  flashed  through  my  mind.  "  Suppose," 
I  thought,  "  I  allow  the  usual  effect  to  be  produced,  yet 
reverse  the  character  of  its  operation  ?  I  am  convinced 
that  he  has  been  directing  the  current  of  my  thought  accord- 
ing to  his  will ;  let  me  now  render  myself  so  thoroughly 
passive,  that  my  mind,  like  a  mirror,  shall  reflect  what  jjasses 
through  his,  retaining  nothing  of  my  own  except  the  simple 
consciousness  of  what  I  am  doing."  Perhaps  this  was 
exactly  what  he  desired.  He  sat,  bending  forward  a  little 
over  the  table,  his  square  jaws  firmly  set,  his  eyes  hidden 
beneath  their  heavy  brows,  and  every  long,  wiry  hair  on 
his  head  in  its  proper  place.  I  fixed  my  eyes  upon  him, 
threw  my  mind  into  a  state  of  perfect  receptivity,  and 
Avaited. 

It  was  not  long  before  I  felt  his  approach.  Shadow  after 
shadow  flitted  across  the  still  mirror  of  my  inward  sense. 
Whether  the  thoughts  took  words  in  his  brain  or  in  mine, 
— whether  I  first  caught  his  disjointed  musings,  and,  by 
their  utterance  reacting  upon  him,  gave  system  and  deve- 
lopment to  his  thoughts — I  cannot  tell.  But  this  I  know : 
what  I  said  came  wholly  from  him — not  from  the  slandered 
spirits  of  the  dead,  not  from  the  vagaries  of  my  own  ima- 
gination, but  from  Mm.  "  Listen  to  me  !"  I  said.  "  In 
the  flesh  I  was  a  martyr  to  the  Truth,  and  I  am  permitted 
to  communicate  only  with  those  whom  the  Truth  has  made 
free.  You  are  the  heralds  of  the  great  day ;  you  have 
climbed  from  sphere  to  sphere,  until  now  you  stand  near 


THE   COXT'ESSIOJrS   OP   A   MEDIUM.  467 

the  fountains  of  light.  But  it  is  not  enough  that  you  see : 
your  lives  must  reflect  the  light.  The  inward  vision  is  for 
you,  but  the  outward  manifestation  thereof  is  for  the  souls 
of  others.  Fulfil  the  harmonies  in  the  flesh.  Be  the  living 
music,  not  the  silent  instruments." 

There  was  more,  much  more  of  this — a  plenitude  of  elo- 
quent sound,  Avhich  seems  to  embody  sublime  ideas,  but 
which,  carefully  examined,  contains  no  more  palpable  sub- 
stance than  sea-froth.  If  the  reader  will  take  the  trouble 
to  read  an  "  Epic  of  the  Starry  Heavens,"  the  production 
of  a  Spiritual  Medium,  he  will  find  several  hundred  pages 
of  the  same  character.  But,  by  degrees,  the  revelation 
descended  to  details,  and  assumed  a  personal  application. 
"  In  you,  in  all  of  you,  the  spiritual  harmonies  are  still  vio- 
lated," was  the  conclusion.  "You,  Abijah  Stilton,  who  are 
chosen  to  hold  up  the  light  of  truth  to  the  world,  require 
that  a  transparent  soul,  capable  of  transmitting  that  light 
to  you,  should  be  allied  to  yours.  She  who  is  called  your 
wife  is  a   clouded  lens;  she   can   receive  the  light  only 

through  John ,  who  is  her  true  spiritual  husband,  as 

Abby  Fetters  is  your  true  spiritual  wife  !" 

I  was  here  conscious  of  a  sudden  cessation  of  the  influ- 
ence which  forced  me  to  speak,  and  stopped.  The  mem- 
bers of  the  circle  opposite  to  me — the  host,  his  wife, 
neighbor,  and  old  Mr.  Fetters — wei*e  silent,  but  their  faces 
exhibited  more  satisfaction  than  astonishment.  My  eye 
fell  upon  Mrs.  Stilton.  Her  face  was  pale,  her  eyes  widely 
opened,  and  her  lips  dropped  apart,  with  a  stunned,  bewil- 
dered expression.  It  was  the  blank  face  of  a  woman  walk- 
ing in  her  sleep.     These  observations  were  accomplished  in 


468  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

an  instant ;  for  Miss  Fetters,  suddenly  possessed  with  the 
spirit  of  Black  Hawk,  sj^rang  upon  her  feet.  "  Ugh ! 
ugh  ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  a  deep,  harsh  voice,  "  where's  the 
pale-face  ?  Black  Hawk,  he  like  him — he  love  him  much  !" 
— and  therewith  threw  her  arms  around  Stilton,  fairly- 
lifting  him  oflf  his  feet.  "  Ugh  !  fire-water  for  Black  Hawk  ! 
— big  Injun  drink !" — and  she  tossed  off  a  tumbler  of 
brandy.  By  this  time  I  had  wholly  recovered  my  con- 
sciousness, but  remained  silent,  stupefied  by  the  extraordi- 
nary scene. 

Presently  Miss  Fetters  became  more  quiet,  and  the  pos- 
session left  her.  "  My  friends,"  said  Stilton,  in  his  cold, 
unmoved  voice,  "I  feel  that  the  spirit  has  spoken  truly. 
"VVe  must  obey  our  spiritual  affinities,  or  our  great  and 
glorious  mission  will  be  unfulfilled.  Let  us  rather  rejoice 
that  we  have  been  selected  as  the  instruments  to  do  this 
work.  Come  to  me,  Abby ;  and  you,  Rachel,  remember 
that  our  harmony  is  not  disturbed,  but  only  made  more 
complete." 

"  Abijah !''  exclaimed  Mrs.  Stilton,  with  a  pitiful  cry, 
while  the  tears  burst  hot  and  fast  from  her  eyes  ;  "  dear  hus- 
band, what  does  this  mean  ?  Oh,  don't  tell  me  that  I  am 
to  be  cast  off!  You  promised  to  love  me  and  care  for  me, 
Abijah !  I'm  not  bright,  I  know,  but  I'll  try  to  understand 
you;  indeed,  I  will!  Oh,  don't  be  so  cruel! — don't" — 
and  the  poor  creature's  voice  completely  gave  way. 

She  dropped  on  the  floor  at  his  feet,  and  lay  there,  sob- 
bing piteously. 

"  Rachel,  Rachel,"  said  he — and  his  face  was  not  quite 
so  calm  as  his  voice — "  don't  be  rebellious.     We  are  gov- 


THE    CONFESSIONS    OF    A    MEDIUM.  469 

erned  by  a  higher  Power.  This  is  all  for  our  own  good, 
and  for  the  good  of  the  world.  Besides,  ours  was  not  a 
perfect  affinity.  You  will  be  much  happier  with  John,  as 
he  harmonizes  " 

I  could  endure  it  no  longer.  Indignation,  pity,  the  full 
energy  of  my  will  possessed  me.  He  lost  his  power  over 
me  then,  and  forever. 

"  What !  "  I  exclaimed,  "  jon  blasphemer,  beast  that 
you  are,  you  dare  to  dispose  of  your  honest  wife  in  this 
infamous  way,  that  you  may  be  free  to  indulge  your  own 
vile  appetites  ? — you,  who  have  outraged  the  dead  and  the 
living  alike,  by  making  me  utter  your  forgeries?  Take 
her  back,  and  let  this  disgraceful  scene  end  ! — take  her 
back,  or  I  will  give  you  a  brand  that  shall  last  to  the  end 
of  your  days !'' 

He  turned  deadly  pale,  and  trembled.  I  knew  that  he 
made  a  desperate  effort  to  bring  me  under  the  control  of 
his  will,  and  laughed  mockingly  as  I  saw  his  knit  brow  and 
the  swollen  veins  in  his  temples.  As  for  the  others,  they 
seemed  paralyzed  by  the  suddenness  and  fierceness  of  my 
attack.  He  wavered  but  for  an  instant,  however,  and  his 
self-possession  returned. 

"  Ha ! ''  he  exclaimed,  "  it  is  the  Spirit  of  Evil  that 
speaks  in  him  !  The  Devil  himself  has  risen  to  destroy  our 
glorious  fabric  !  Help  me,  friends !  help  me  to  bind  him, 
and  to  silence  his  infernal  voice,  before  he  drives  the  pure 
spirits  from  our  midst !" 

With  that,  he  advanced  a  step  towards  me,  and  raised  a 
hand  to  seize  my  arm,  while  the  others  followed  behind. 
But  I  was  too  quick  for  him.     Weak  as  I  was,  in  compari- 


470  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

son,  rage  gave  me  strength,  and  a  blow,  delivered  with  the 
rapidity  of  lightning  just  under  the  chin,  laid  him  sense- 
less on  the  floor.  Mrs.  Stilton  screamed,  and  threw  herself 
over  him.  The  rest  of  the  company  remained  as  if  stupe- 
fied. The  storm  which  had  been  gathering  all  the  evening 
at  the  same  instant  broke  over  the  house  in  simultaneous 
thunder  and  rain. 

I  stepped  suddenly  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  drew  a 
long,  deep  breath  of  relief,  as  I  found  myself  alone  in  the 
darkness.  "  Now,"  said  I,  "  I  have  done  tampering  with 
God's  best  gift ;  I  will  be  satisfied  with  the  natural  sun- 
shine which  beams  from  His  Word  and  from  His  Works ; 
I  have  learned  wisdom  at  the  expense  of  shame !  "  I  ex- 
ulted in  my  new  freedom,  in  my  restored  purity  of  soul ; 
and  the  wind,  that  swept  down  the  dark,  lonely  street, 
seemed  to  exult  with  me.  The  rains  beat  upon  me,  but  I 
heeded  them  not ;  nay,  I  turned  aside  from  the  homeward 
path,  in  order  to  pass  by  the  house  where  Agnes  lived. 
Her  window  was  dark,  and  I  knew  she  was  sleei3ing,  lulled 
by  the  storm;  but  I  stood,  a  moment  below,  in  the  rain, 
and  said  aloud,  softly — 

"  Now,  Agnes,  I  belong  wholly  to  you !  Pray  to  God 
for  me,  darling,  that  I  may  never  lose  the  true  light  I  have 
found  at  last !  " 

My  healing,  though  complete  in  the  end,  was  not  instan- 
taneous. The  habit  of  the  trance,  I  found,  had  really 
impaired  the  action  of  my  will.  I  experienced  a  periodic 
tendency  to  return  to  it,  which  I  have  been  able  to  over- 
come only  by  the  most  vigorous  efforts.  I  found  it  pru- 
dent, indeed,  to  banish  from  my  mind,  as  far  as  was  possi- 


THE   CONFESSIONS    OF    A    MEDIUM.  471 

Lie,  all  subjects,  all  memories,  connected  Avith  Spiritualism. 
In  this  work  I  was  aided  by  Agnes,  who  now  possessed  my 
entire  confidence,  and  who  willingly  took  upon  herself  the 
guidance  of  my  mind  at  those  seasons  when  my  own 
governing  faculties  flagged.  Gradually  my  mental  health 
returned,  and  I  am  now  beyond  all  danger  of  ever  again 
being  led  into  such  fatal  dissipations.  The  writing  of  this 
narrative,  in  fact,  has  been  a  test  of  my  ability  to  overlook 
and  describe  my  experience  without  being  touched  by  its 
past  delusions.  If  some  portions  of  it  should  not  be  wholly 
intelligible  to  the  reader,  the  defect  lies  in  the  very  nature 
of  the  subject. 

It  will  be  noticed  that  I  have  given  but  a  partial  expla- 
nation of  the  spiritual  phenomena.  Of  the  genuineness  of 
the  physical  manifestations  I  am  fully  convinced,  and  I  can 
account  for  them  OTily  by  the  supposition  of  some  subtle 
agency  whereby  the  human  will  operates  upon  inert  mat- 
ter. Clairvoyance  is  a  sufficient  explanation  of  the  utter- 
ances of  the  Mediums — at  least  of  those  which  I  have 
heard  ;  but  there  is,  as  I  have  said  before,  something  in  the 
background,  which  I  feel  too  indistinctly  to  describe,  yet 
which  I  know  to  be  Evil.  I  do  not  wonder  at,  though  I 
lament,  the  prevalence  of  the  belief  in  Spiritualism.  In  a 
few  individual  cases  it  may  have  been  productive  of  good, 
but  its  general  tendency  is  evil.  There  are  probably  but 
few  Stiltons  among  its  apostles,  few  Miss  Fetterses  among 
its  Mediums ;  but  the  condition  which  accompanies  the 
trance,  as  I  have  shown,  inevitably  removes  the  wholesome 
check  which  holds  our  baser  passions  in  subjection.  The 
Medium  is  at  the  mercy  of  any  evil  will,  and  the  impres- 


472  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

sions  received  from  a  corrupt  mind  are  always  liable  to  be 
accepted  by  innocent  believers  as  revelations  from  the 
spirits  of  the  holy  dead.  I  shall  shock  many  honest  souls 
by  this  confession,  but  I  hope  and  believe  that  jt  may 
awaken  and  enlighten  others.  Its  publication  is  necessary, 
as  an  expiation  for  some  of  the  evil  which  has  been  done 
through  my  own  instrumentality. 

I  learned,  two  days  afterwards,  that  Stilton  (who  was  not 
seriously  damaged  by  my  blow)  had  gone  to  ISTew  "York, 
taking  Miss  Fetters  with  him.  Her  ignorant,  weak-minded 
father  was  entirely  satisfied  with  the  proceeding.  Mrs. 
Stilton,  helpless  and  heart-broken,  remained  at  the  house 
where  our  circle  had  met,  with  her  only  child,  a  boy  of 
three  years  of  age,  who,  fortunately,  inherited  her  weak- 
ness rather  than  his  father's  power.  Agnes,  on  learning 
this,  insisted  on  having  her  removed  from  associations 
which  were  at  once  unhappy  and  dangerous.  We  went 
together  to  see  her,  and,  after  much  persuasion,  and  many 
painful  scenes  which  I  shall  not  recapitulate,  succeeded  in 
sending  her  to  her  father,  a  farmer  in  Connecticut.  She 
still  remains  there,  hoping  for  the  day  when  her  guilty 
husband  shall  return  and  be  instantly  forgiven. 

My  task  is  ended ;  may  it  not  have  been  performed  in 
vain! 


VIII. 

THE  HAUXTED  SHANTY. 

As  the  principal  personage  of  this  story  is  dead,  and 
there  is  no  likelihood  that  any  of  the  others  will  ever  see 
the  "  Atlantic  Monthly,''  I  feel  free  to  tell  it  without  reser- 
vation. 

The  mercantile  house  of  which  I  was  until  recently  an 
active  member  had  many  business  connexions  throughout 
the  Western  States,  and  I  was  therefore  in  the  habit  of 
making  an  annual  journey  throughout  them,  in  the  interest 
of  the  firm.  In  fact,  I  was  always  glad  to  escape  from  the 
dirt  and  hubbub  of  Cortland  Street,  and  to  exchange  the 
smell  of  goods  and  boxes,  cellars  and  gutters,  for  that  of 
prairie  grass  and  even  of  prairie  mud.  Although  wearing 
the  immaculate  linen  and  golden  studs  of  the  city  Valen- 
tine, there  still  remained  a  good  deal  of  the  country  Orson 
in  my  blood,  and  I  endured  many  hard,  repulsive,  yea, 
downright  vulgar  experiences  for  the  sake  of  a  run  at  large, 
and  the  healthy  animal  exaltation  which  accompanied  it. 

Eight  or  nine  years  ago,  (it  is,  perhaps,  as  well  not  to  be 
very  precise,  as  yet,  with  regard  to  dates,)  I  found  myself 


474  AT    HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

at  Peoria,  in  Illinois,  rather  late  in  the  season.  The  busi- 
ness I  had  on  hand  was  mostly  transacted ;  but  it  was 
still  necessary  that  I  should  visit  Bloomington  and  Terre 
Haute  before  returning  to  the  East.  I  had  come  from 
Wisconsin  and  Northern  Illinois,  and,  as  the  great  railroad 
spider  of  Chicago  had  then  spun  but  a  few  threads  of  his 
present  tremendous  mesh,  I  had  made  the  greater  part  of 
my  journey  on  horseback.  By  the  time  I  reached  Peoria 
the  month  of  November  was  well  advanced,  and  the 
weather  had  become  very  disagreeable,  I  was  strongly 
tempted  to  sell  my  horse  and  take  the  stage  to  Blooming- 
ton,  but  the  roads  were  even  worse  to  a  traveller  on 
wheels  than  to  one  in  the  saddle,  and  the  sunny  day  which 
followed  my  arrival  flattered  me  with  the  hope  that  others 
as  fair  might  succeed  it. 

The  distance  to  Bloomington  was  forty  miles,  and  the 
road  none  of  the  best ;  yet,  as  ray  horse  "  Peck  "  (an  abbre- 
viation of  "  Pecatonica"),  had  had  two  days'  rest,  I  did  not 
leave  Peoria  until  after  the  usual  dinner  at  twelve  o'clock, 
trusting  that  I  should  reach  ray  destination  by  eight  or 
nine  in  the  evening,  at  the  latest.  Broad  bands  of  dull, 
gray,  felt-like  clouds  crossed  the  sky,  and  the  wind  had  a 
rough  edge  to  it  which  predicted  that  there  was  rain  within 
a  day's  march.  The  oaks  along  the  rounded  river-bluffs 
still  held  on  to  their  leaves,  although  the  latter  were 
entirely  brown  and  dead,  and  rattled  around  me  with  an 
ominous  sound,  as  I  climbed  to  the  level  of  the  prairie, 
leaving  the  bed  of  the  muddy  Illinois  below.  Peck's  hoofs 
sank  deeply  into  the  unctuous  black  soil,  which  resembled 
a  jetty  tallow  rather  than  earth,  and  his  progress  Mas  slow 


THE   HAUNTED    SHANTY.  475 

and  toilsome.  The  sky  became  more  and  more  obscured ; 
the  sun  faded  to  a  ghastly  moon,  then  to  a  white  blotch  in 
the  gray  vault,  and  finally  retired  in  disgust.  Indeed,  there 
was  nothing  in  the  landscape  worth  his  contemplation. 
Dead  flats  of  black,  bristling  with  short  corn-stalks,  flats  of 
brown  grass,  a  brown  belt  of  low  woods  in  the  distance, — 
that  was  all  the  horizon  inclosed :  no  embossed  bowl,  with 
its  rim  of  sculptured  hills,  its  round  of  colored  pictures, 
but  a  flat  earthen  pie-dish,  over  which  the  sky  fell  like  a 
pewter  cover. 

After  riding  for  an  hour  or  two  over  the  desolate  level, 
I  descended  through  rattling  oaks  to  the  bed  of  a  stream, 
and  then  ascended  through  rattling  oaks  to  the  prairie 
beyond.  Here,  however,  I  took  the  wrong  road,  and 
found  myself,  some  three  miles  farther,  at  a  farm-house, 
where  it  terminated.  "  You  kin  go  out  over  the  perairah 
yander,''  said  the  farmer,  dropping  his  maul  beside  a  rail 
he  had  just  split  off", — "  there's  a  plain  trail  from  Sykes's 
that'll  bring  you  onto  the  road  not  fur  from  Sugar  Crick." 
"With  which  knowledge  I  plucked  up  heart  and  rode  on. 

What  with  the  windings  and  turnings  of  the  various 
cart-tracks,  the  family  resemblance  in  the  groves  of  oak 
and  hickory,  and  the  heavy,  imiform  gray  of  the  sky,  I 
presently  lost  my  compass-needle, — that  natural  instinct 
of  direction,  on  which  I  had  learned  to  rely.  East,  west, 
north,  south, — all  were  alike,  and  the  very  doubt  paralyzed 
the  faculty.  The  growing  darkness  of  the  sky,  the  watery 
moaning  of  the  wind,  betokened  night  and  storm ;  but  I 
pressed  on,  hap-hazard,  determined,  at  least,  to  reach  one 
of  the  incipient  villages  on  the  Bloomington  road. 


476  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

In  an  hour  more,  I  found  myself  on  the  brink  of  another 
winding  hollow,  threaded  by  a  broad,  shallow  stream.  On 
the  opposite  side,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  above,  stood  a  rough 
shanty,  at  the  foot  of  the  rise  which  led  to  the  prairie. 
After  fording  the  stream,  however,  I  found  that  the  trail 
I  had  followed  continued  forward  in  the  same  direction, 
leaving  this  rude  settlement  on  the  left.  On  the  opposite 
side  of  the  hollow,  the  prairie  again  stretched  before  me, 
dark  and  flat,  and  destitute  of  any  sign  of  habitation.  I 
could  scarcely  distinguish  the  trail  any  longer ;  in  half  an 
hour,  I  knew,  I  should  be  swallowed  up  in  a  gulf  of  impe- 
netrable darkness ;  and  there  was  evidently  no  choice  left 
me  but  to  return  to  the  lonely  shanty,  and  there  seek  shel- 
ter for  the  night. 

To  be  thwarted  in  one's  plans,  even  by  wind  or  weather, 
is  always  vexatious ;  but  in  this  case,  the  prospect  of  spend- 
ing a  night  in  such  a  dismal  corner  of  the  world  was  espe- 
cially disagreeable.  I  am — or  at  least  I  consider  myself — ■ 
a  thoroughly  matter-of-fact  man,  and  my  first  thought,  I 
am  not  ashamed  to  confess,  was  of  oysters.  Visions  of  a 
favorite  saloon,  and  many  a  pleasant  supper  with  Dunham 
and  Beeson,  (my  partners,)  all  at  once  popped  into  my 
mind,  as  I  turned  back  over  the  brow  of  the  hollow  and 
urged  Peck  down  its  rough  slope.  "  Well,"  thought  I,  at 
last,  "  this  will  be  one  more  story  for  our  next  meeting. 
Who  knows  what  originals  I  may  not  find,  even  in  a  soli- 
tary settler's  fthanty  ?" 

I  could  discover  no  trail,  and  the  darkness  thickened 
ra])idly  while  I  picked  my  way  across  dry  gullies,  formed 
by  the  drainage  of  the  prairie  above,  rotten  tree-trunks, 


THE  HAUXTED  SHANTY.  477 

stumps,  and  spots  of  thicket.  As  I  approached  the  shanty, 
a  faint  gleam  through  one  of  its  two  small  windows  showed 
that  it  was  inhabited.  In  the  reai',  a  space  of  a  quarter 
of  an  acre,  inclosed  by  a  huge  worm-fence,  was  evidently 
the  vegetable-patch,  at  one  corner  of  which  a  small  stable, 
roofed  and  buttressed  with  corn-fodder,  leaned  against  the 
hill.  I  drew  rein  in  front  of  the  building,  and  was  about 
to  hail  its  inmates,  when  I  observed  the  figure  of  a  man 
issue  from  the  stable.  Even  in  the  gloom,  there  was  some- 
thing forlorn  and  dispiriting  in  his  walk.  He  approached 
with  a  slow,  dragging  step,  apparently  unaware  of  my 
presence. 

"  Good  evening,  friend !"  I  said. 

He  stopped,  stood  still  fot  half  a  minute,  and  finally 
responded, — 

"Who  air  you?" 

The  tone  of  his  voice,  querulous  and  lamenting,  rather 
implied,  "  Why  don't  you  let  me  alone  ?" 

"  I  am  a  traveller,"  I  answered,  "  bound  from  Peoria  to 
Bloomington,  and  have  lost  my  way.  It  is  dark,  as  you 
know,  and  likely  to  rain,  and  I  don't  see  how  I  can  get  any 
farther  to-night." 

Another  pause.  Then  he  said,  slowly,  as  if  speaking  to 
himself — 

"  There  a'n't  no  other  place  neai'er  'n  four  or  five  mile." 

"  Then  I  hope  you  will  let  me  stay  here." 

The  answer,  to  my  surprise,  was  a  deep  sigh, 

"  I  am  used  to  roughing  it,"  I  urged ;  "  and  besides,  I 
will  pay  for  any  trouble  I  may  give  you."  • 

"  It  a'n't  <Aa«,"  said  he  ;  then  added,  hesitatingly — "  fact 


478  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAD. 

is,  we  're  lonesome  people  here — don't  often  see  strangers ; 
yit  I  s'pose  you  can't  go  no  furder  ; — well,  I'll  talk  to  my 
wife." 

Therewith  he  entered  the  shanty,  leaving  me  a  little  dis- 
concerted with  so  uncertain,  not  to  say  suspicious,  a  recep- 
tion. I  heard  the  sound  of  voices — one  of  them  unmistak- 
able in  its  nasal  shrillness — in  what  seemed  to  be  a  harsh 
debate,  and  distinguished  the  words,  "  I  didn't  bring  it  on," 
followed  with,  "  Tell  him,  then,  if  you  like,  and  let  him 
stay" — which  seemed  to  settle  the  matter.  The  door  pre- 
sently opened,  and  the  man  said — 

"  I  guess  we'll  have  t'accommodate  you.  Give  me  your 
things,  an'  then  I'll  put  your  horse  up." 

I  unstrapped  my  valise,  took  off  the  saddle,  and,  having 
seen  Peck  to  his  fodder-tent,  where  I  left  him  with  some 
ears  of  coi'n  in  an  old  basket,  returned  to  the  shanty.  It 
was  a  rude  specimen  of  the  article — a  single  room  of  some 
thirty  by  fifteen  feet,  with  a  large  fireplace  of  sticks  and 
clay  at  one  end,  while  a  half-partition  of  unplaned  planks  set 
on  end  formed  a  sort  of  recess  for  the  bed  at  the  other.  A 
good  fire  on  the  hearth,  however,  made  it  seem  tolerably 
cheerful,  contrasted  with  the  dismal  gloom  outside.  The 
furniture  consisted  of  a  table,  two  or  three  chairs,  a  broad 
bench,  and  a  kitchen-dresser  of  boards.  Some"  golden  ears 
of  seed-corn,  a  few  sides  of  bacon,  and  ropes  of  onions  hung 
from  the  rafters. 

A* woman  in  a  blue  calico  gown,  with  a  tin  coffee-pot  in 
one  hand  and  a  stick  in  the  other,  was  raking  out  the  red 
coals  from  fmder  the  burning  logs.  At  my  salutation,  she 
partly  turned,  looked  hard  at  me,  nodded,  and  muttered 


THE  HAUNTED  SHANTY.  479 

some  inaudible  words.  Then,  having  levelled  the  coals 
properly,  she  put  down  the  coffee-pot,  and,  facing  about, 
exclaimed — "Jimmy,  git  off  that  cheer!" 

Though  this  phrase,  short  and  snappish  enough,  was  not 
worded  as  an  invitation  for  me  to  sit  down,  I  accepted  it  as 
such,  and  took  the  chair  which  a  lean  boy  of  some  nine  or 
ten  years  old  had  hurriedly  vacated.  In  such  cases,  I  had 
learned  by  experience,  it  is  not  best  to  be  too  forward : 
wait  quietly,  and  allow  the  unwilling  hosts  time  to  get 
accustomed  to  your  presence.  I  inspected  the  family  for  a 
while,  in  silence.  The  spare,  bony  form  of  the  woman,  her 
deep-set  gray  eyes,  and  the  long,  thin  nose,  which  seemed 
to  be  merely  a  scabbard  for  her  sharp-edged  voice,  gave  me 
her  character  at  the  first  glance.  As  for  the  man,  he  was 
worn  by  some  constant  fret  or  worry,  rather  than  naturally 
spare.  His  complexion  was  sallow,  his  face  honest,  every 
line  of  it,  though  the  expression  was  dejected,  and  there 
was  a  helpless  patience  in  his  voice  and  movements,  which 
I  have  often  seen  in  women,  but  never  before  in  a  man. 
"  Henpecked  in  the  first  degree,"  was  the  verdict  I  gave, 
without  leaving  my  seat.  The  silence,  shyness,  and  puny 
appearance  of  the  boy  might  be  accounted  for  by  the  lone- 
liness of  his  life,  and  the  usual  "  shakes" ;  but  there  was  a 
wild,  frightened  look  in  his  eye,  a  nervous  restlessness  about 
his  limbs,  which  excited  my  curiosity.  I  am  no  believer  in 
those  freaks  of  fancy  called  "  presentiments,''  but  I  certainly 
felt  that  there  was  something  unpleasant,  perhaps  painful, 
in  the  private  relations  of  the  family. 

Meanwhile,  the  supper  gradually  took  shape.  The  coffee 
was  boiled,  (far  too  much,  for  my  taste,)  bacon  fried,  pota- 


480  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

toes  roasted,  and  certain  lumps  of  dough  transformed  into 
farinaceous  grape-shot,  called  "  biscuits."  Dishes  of  blue 
queensware,  knives  and  forks,  cups  and  saucers  of  various 
patterns,  and  a  bowl  of  molasses  were  placed  upon  the  table ; 
and  finally  the  woman  said,  speaking  to,  though  not  looking 
at,  me — 

"  I  8'pose  you  ha'n't  had  your  supper." 

I  accepted  the  invitation  with  a  simple  "  No,"  and  ate 
enough  of  the  rude  fare  (for  I  was  really  hungry)  to  satisfy 
my  hosts  that  I  was  not  proud.  I  attempted  no  conversa- 
tion, knowing  that  such  people  never  talk  when  they  eat, 
until  the  meal  was  over,  and  the  man,  who  gladly  took  one 
of  my  cigars,  was  seated  comfortably  before  the  fire.  I 
then  related  my  story,  told  my  name  and  business,  and  by 
degrees  established  a  mild  flow  of  conversation.  The 
woman,  as  she  washed  the  dishes  and  cleared  up  things  for 
the  night,  listened  to  us,  and  now  and  then  made  a  remark 
to  the  coffee-pot  or  frying-pan,  evidently  intended  for  our 
ears.  Some  things  which  she  said  must  have  had  a  mean- 
ing hidden  fi*om  me,  for  I  could  see  that  the  man  winced, 
and  at  last  he  ventured  to  say — 

"  Mary  Ann,  what's  the  use  in  talkin'  about  it  ?" 

"  Do  as  you  like,"  she  snapped  back ;  "  only  I  a'n't  a-goin' 
to  be  blamed  for  your  doin's.  The  stranger  'II  find  out, 
soon  enough." 

"You  find  this  life  rather  lonely,  I  should  think,"  I 
remarked,  with  a  view  of  giving  the  conversation  a  differ- 
ent turn. 

"  Lonely  '"  she  repeated,  jerking  out  a  fragment  of  mali- 
cious laughter.     "  It's  lonely  enough  in  the  daytime,  Good- 


THB   HAUNTED   SHANTY.  481 

ness  knows ;  but  you'll  have  your  fill  o'  company  afore 
momin'." 

With  that,  she  threw  a  defiant  glance  at  her  husband. 

"Fact  is,"  said  he,  shrinking  from  her  eye,  "  we're  sort 
o'  troubled  with  noises  at  night.  P'raps  you'll  be  skeered, 
but  it's  no  more  'n  noise — onpleasant,  but  never  hurts 
nothin'." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  this  shanty  is  haunted  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Well — yes :  some  folks  'd  call  it  so.  There  is  noises  an' 
things  goin'  on,  but  you  can't  see  nobody." 

"  Oh,  if  that  is  all,"  said  I,  "  you  need  not  be  concerned 
on  my  account.  Nothing  is  so  strange,  but  the  cause  of  it 
can  be  discovered." 

Again  the  man  heaved  a  deep  sigh.  The  woman  said,  in 
rather  a  milder  tone — 

"  What's  the  good  o'  knowin'  what  makes  it,  when  you 
can't  stop  it  ?" 

As  I  was  neither  sleepy  nor  fatigued,  this  information  was 
rather  welcome  than  otherwise.  I  had  full  confidence  in 
my  own  coui-age  ;  and  if  anything  shmild  happen,  it  would 
make  a  capital  story  for  my  first  New  York  supper.  I  saw 
there  was  but  one  bed,  and  a  small  straw  mattress  on  the 
floor  beside  it  for  the  boy,  and  therefore  declared  that  I 
should  sleep  on  the  bench,  wrapped  in  my  cloak.  Neither 
objected  to  this,  and  they  presently  retired.  I  determined, 
however,  to  keep  awake  as  long  as  possible.  I  threw  a 
fresh  log  on  the  fire,  lit  another  cigar,  made  a  few  entries 
in  my  note-book,  and  finally  took  the  "  Iron  Mask"  of 
Dumas  from  my  valise,  and  tried  to  read  by  the  wavering 
flashes  of  the  fire. 

21 


482  AT   HOME   AND    ABKOAD. 

In  this  manner  another  hour  passed  away.  The  deep 
breathing — not  to  say  snoring — from  the  recess  indicated 
that  my  hosts  were  sound  asleep,  and  the  monotonous 
whistle  of  the  wind  around  the  shanty  be^an  to  exercise  a 
lulling  influence  on  my  own  senses.  Wrapping  myself  in 
my  cloak,  with  my  valise  for  a  pillow,  I  stretched  myself 
out  on  the  bench,  and  strove  to  keep  my  mind  occupied 
with  conjectures  concerning  the  sleeping  family.  Further- 
more, I  recalled  all  the  stories  of  ghosts  and  haunted  houses 
which  I  had  ever  heard,  constructed  explanations  for  such 
as  were  still  unsolved,  and,  so  far  from  feeling  any  alarm, 
desired  nothing  so  much  as  that  the  supernatural  perform- 
ances might  commence. 

My  thoughts,  however,  became  gradually  less  and  less 
coherent,  and  I  was  just  sliding  over  the  verge  of  slumber, 
when  a  faint  sound  in  the  distance  caught  my  ear.  I 
listened  intently:  certainly  there  was  a  far-ofi",  indistinct 
sound,  different  from  the  dull,  continuous  sweep  of  the  wind. 
I  rose  on  the  bench,  fully  awake,  yet  not  excited,  for  my 
first  thought  was  that  other  travellers  might  be  lost  or 
belated.  By  this  time  the  sound  was  quite  distinct,  and, 
to  my  great  surprise,  appeared  to  proceed  from  a  drum, 
rapidly  beaten.  I  looked  at  my  watch  :  it  was  half-past  ten. 
Who  could  be  out  on  the  lonely  prairie  with  a  drum,  at  that 
time  of  night  ?  There  must  have  been  some  military  festi- 
val, some  political  caucus,  some  celebration  of  the  Sons  of 
Malta,  or  jubilation  of  the  Society  of  the  Thousand  and 
One,  and  a  few  of  the  scattered  members  were  enlivening 
their  dark  ride  hoinewards.  While  I  was  busy  with  these 
conjectures,  the  sound  advanced  nearer  and  nearei* — and, 


THE  HAUNTED  SHANTY.  483 

what  was  very  singular,  without  the  least  pause  or  vavia- 
tioQ — one  steady,  regular  roll,  ringing  deep  and  clear 
through  the  night. 

The  shanty  stood  at  a  point  where  the  stream,  leaving  its 
general  southwestern  course,  bent  at  a  sharp  angle  to  the 
southeast,  and  faced  very  nearly  in  the  latter  direction.  As 
the  sound  of  the  drum  came  from  the  east,  it  seemed  the 
more  probable  that  it  was  caused  by  some  person  on  the 
road  which  crossed  the  creek  a  quarter  of  a  mile  below. 
Yet,  on  approaching  nearer,  it  made  directly  for  the  shanty, 
moving,  evidently,  much  more  rapidly  than  a  person  could 
walk.  It  then  flashed  upon  my  mind  that  this  was  the 
noise  T  was  to  hear,  this  the  company  I  was  to  expect ! 
Louder  and  louder,  deep,  strong,  and  reverberating,  roll- 
ing as  if  for  a  battle-charge,  it  came  on  :  it  was  now  but  a 
hundred  yards  distant — now  but  fifty — ten — -just  outside 
the  rough  clajDhoard-wall — but,  while  I  had  half  risen  to 
open  the  door,  it  passed  directly  through  the  wall  and 
sounded  at  my  very  ears,  inside  the  shanty. 

The  logs  burned  brightly  on  the  hearth  :  every  object  in 
the  room  could  be  seen  more  or  less  distinctly :  nothing 
was  out  of  its  place,  nothing  disturbed,  yet  the  rafters 
almost  shook  under  the  roll  of  an  invisible  drum,  beaten  by 
invisible  hands !  The  sleepers  tossed  restlessly,  and  a  deep 
groan,  as  if  in  semi-dream,  came  from  the  man.  Utterly 
confounded  as  I  was,  my  sensations  were  not  those  of  ter- 
ror. Each  moment  I  doubted  my  senses,  and  each  moment 
the  terrific  sound  convinced  me  anew.  I  do  not  know  how 
long  I  sat  thus  in  sheer,  stupid  amazement.  It  may  have 
been  one  minute,  or  fifteen,  before  the  drum,  passing  over 


484  AT   EOME   AND   ABROAD. 

my  head,  through  the  boards  again,  commenced  a  slow 
march  around  the  shanty.  When  it  had  finished  the  first, 
and  was  about  commencing  the  second  round,  I  shook  off 
my  stupor,  and  determined  to  probe  the  mystery.  Open- 
ing the  dooi',  I  advanced  in  an  opposite  direction  to  meet 
it.  Again  the  sound  passed  close  beside  my  head,  but  I 
could  see  nothing,  touch  nothing.  Again  it  entered  the 
shanty,  and  I  followed.  I  stirred  up  the  fire,  casting  a 
strong  illumination  into  the  darkest  corners :  I  thrust  my 
hand  into  the  very  heart  of  the  sound,  I  struck  through  it 
in  all  directions  with  a  stick — still  I  saw  nothing,  touched 
nothing. 

Of  course,  I  do  not  expect  to  be  believed  by  half  my 
readers — nor  can  I  blame  them  for  their  incredulity.  So 
astounding  is  the  circumstance,  even  yet,  to  myself,  that  I 
should  doubt  its  reality,  were  it  not  therefore  necessary,  for 
the  same  reason,  to  doubt  every  event  of  my  life. 

At  length  the  sound  moved  away  in  the  direction  whence 
it  came,  becoming  gradually  fainter  and  fainter  until  it  died 
in  the  distance.  But  immediately  afterwards,  from  the 
same  quarter,  came  a  thin,  sharp  blast 'of  wind — or  what 
seemed  to  be  such.  If  one  could  imagine  a  swift,  intense 
stream  of  air,  no  thicker  than  a  telegraph-wire,  producing 
a  keen,  whistling  rush  in  its  passage,  he  would  understand 
the  impression  made  upon  my  mind.  This  wind,  or  sound, 
or  whatever  it  was,  seemed  to  strike  an  invisible  target  in 
the  centre  of  the  room,  and  thereupon  ensued  a  new  and 
worse  confusion.  Sounds  as  of  huge  planks  lifted  at  one 
end  and  then  allowed  to  fall,  slamming  upon  the  floor,  hard, 
wooden  claps,  crashes,  and  noises  of  splitting  and  snapping, 


THE   HAUNTED   SHANTY.  485 

filled  the  shanty.  The  rough  boards  of  the  floor  jarred  and 
trembled,  and  the  table  and  chairs  were  jolted  off  their 
feet.  Instinctively,  I  jerked  away  my  legs,  whenever  the 
invisible  planks  fell  too  near  them. 

It  never  came  into  my  mind  to  charge  the  family  with 
being  the  authors  of  these  phenomena :  their  «are  and  dis- 
tress were  too  evident.  There  was  certainly  no  other 
human  being  but  myself  in  or  near  the  shanty.  My  senses 
of  sight  and  touch  availed  me  nothing,  and  I  confined  my 
attention,  at  last,  to  simply  noting  the  manifestations,  with- 
out attempting  to  explain  them.  I  began  to  experience  a 
feeling,  not  of  terror,  but  of  disturbing  uncertainty.  The 
solid  ground  was  taken  from  beneath  my  feet. 

Still  the  man  and  his  wife  groaned  and  muttered,  as  if  in 
a  nightmare  sleep,  and  the  boy  tossed  restlessly  on  his  low 
bed.  I  would  not  disturb  them,  since,  by  their  own  con- 
fession, they  were  accustomed  to  the  visitation.  Besides, 
it  would  not  assist  me,  and,  so  long  as  there  was  no  danger 
of  personal  injury,  I  pi-eferred  to  watch  alone.  I  recalled, 
however,  the  woman's  remarks,  remembering  the  myste- 
rious blame  she  had  thrown  upon  her  husband,  and  felt  cer- 
tain that  she  had  adopted  some  explanation  of  the  noises, 
at  his  expense. 

As  the  confusion  continued,  with  more  or  less  violence, 
sometimes  pausing  for  a  few  minutes,  to  begin  again  with 
renewed  force,  I  felt  an  increasing  impression  of  somebody 
else  being  present.  Outside  the  shanty  this  feeling  ceased, 
but  every  time  I  opened  the  door  I  fully  expected  to  see 
some  one  standing  in  the  centre  of  the  room.  Yet,  looking 
through  the  little  windows,  when  the  noises  were  at  their 


486  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

loudest,  I  could  discover  nothing.  Two  hours  had  passed 
away  since  I  first  heard  the  drum-beat,  and  I  found  myself 
at  last  completely  wearied  with  my  fruitless  exertions  and 
the  unusual  excitement.  By  this  time  the  disturbances  had 
become  faint,  with  more  frequent  pauses.  All  at  once,  I 
heard  a  long,  weary  sigh,  so  near  me  that  it  could  not  have 
proceeded  from  the  sleepers.  A  weak  moan,  expressive  of 
utter  wretchedness,  followed,  and  then  came  the  words,  in 
a  woman's  voice — came  I  know  not  whence,  for  they  seemed 
to  be  uttered  close  beside  me,  and  yet  far,  far  away — "How 
great  is  my  trouble !  How  long  shall  I  suffer  ?  I  was 
married,  in  the  sight  of  God,  to  Eber  Nicholson.  Have 
mercy,  O  Lord,  and  give  him  to  me,  or  release  me  from 
him  I" 

These  were  the  words,  not  spoken,  but  rather  moaned 
forth  in  a  slow,  monotonous  wail  of  utter  helplessness  and 
broken-heartedness.  I  have  heard  human  grief  expressed 
in  many  forms,  but  I  never  heard  or  imagined  anything  so 
desolate,  so  surcharged  with  the  despair  of  an  eternal  woe. 
It  was,  indeed,  too  hopeless  for  sympathy.  It  was  the 
utterance  of  a  sorrow  which  removed  its  possessor  into 
some  dark,  lonely  world  girdled  with  iron  walls,  against 
which  every  throb  of  a  helping  or  consoling  heart  would 
beat  in  vain  for  admittance.  So  far  from  being  moved  or 
softened,  the  words  left  upon  me  an  impression  of  stolid 
apathy.  When  they  had  ceased,  I  heard  another  sigh — and 
some  time  afterwards,  far-off,  retreating  forlornly  through 
the  eastern  darkness,  the  wailing  rej^etition — "  I  was  mar- 
ried, in  the  sight  of  God,  to  Eber  Nicholson.  Have  mercy, 
OLord!" 


THE   HAUIJTED   SHANTY.  487 

This  was  the  last  of  those  midnight  marvels.  Nothing 
further  disturbed  the  night  except  the  steady  sound  of  the 
wind.  The  more  I  thought  of  what  I  had  heard,  the  more 
I  was  convinced  that  the  phenomena  were  connected,  in 
some  way,  with  the  history  of  my  host.  I  had  heard  his 
wife  call  him  "  Ebe,''  and  did  not  doubt  that  he  was  the 
Eber  Nicholson  who,  for  some  mysterious  crime,  was 
haunted  by  the  reproachful  ghost.  Could  murder,  or  worse 
than  murder,  lurk  behind  these  visitations  ?  It  was  use- 
less to  conjecture  ;  yet,  before  giving  myself  up  to  sleep,  I 
determined  to  know  everything  that  could  be  known,  before 
leaving  the  shanty. 

My  rest  was  distui'bed ;  my  hip-bones  pressed  unplea- 
santly on  the  hard  bench;  and  every  now  and  then  I 
awoke  with  a  start,  hearing  the  same  despairing  voice  in 
my  dreams.  The  place  was  always  quiet,  nevertheless, — 
the  distui'bances  having  ceased,  as  nearly  as  I  could  judge, 
about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning.  Finally,  from  sheer 
weaiiness,  I  fell  into  a  deep  slumber,  which  lasted  until 
daylight.  The  sound  of  pans  and  kettles  aroused  me. 
The  woman,  in  her  lank  blue  gown,  was  bending  over  the 
fire ;  the  man  and  boy  had  already  gone  out.  As  I  rose,  rub- 
bing my  eyes  and  shaking  myself,  to  find  out  exactly  where 
and  who  I  was,  the  woman  straightened  herself  and  looked 
at  me  with  a  keen,  questioning  gaze,  but  said  nothing, 

*'  I  must  have  been  very  sound  asleep,"  said  I. 

"  There's  no  sound  sleepin'  here.    Don't  tell  me  that." 

"  Well,"  I  answered,  "  your  shanty  is  rather  noisy ;  but, 
as  I  am  neither  scared  nor  hurt,  there's  no  harm  done. 
But  have  you  never  found  out  what  occasions  the  noise?" 


488  AT   HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

Her  reply  was  a  toss  of  the  head  and  a  peculiar  snorting 
interjection,  "  Hngh !"  (impossible  to  be  represented  by 
letters,)  "  it's  all  her  doin'." 

"  But  who  is  she  f " 

"  You'd  better  ask  Mm.'''' 

Seeing  there  was  nothing  to  be  got  out  of  her,  I  went 
down  to  the  stream,  washed  my  face,  dried  it  with  my 
pocket-handkerchief,  and  then  looked  after  Peck.  He 
gave  a  shrill  whinny  of  recognition,  and,  I  thought,  seemed 
to  be  a  little  restless.  A  fresh  feed  of  corn  was  in  the  old 
basket,  and  presently  the  man  came  into  the  stable  with  a 
bunch  of  hay,  and  commenced  rubbing  off  the  marks  of 
Peck's  oozy  couch  which  were  left  on  his  flanks.  As  we 
went  back  to  the  shanty  I  noticed  that  he  eyed  me  fur- 
tively, without  daring  to  look  me  full  in  the  face.  As  I 
was  apparently  none  the  worse  for  the  night's  experiences, 
he  rallied  at  last,  and  ventured  to  talk  at,  as  well  as  to  me. 

By  this  time,  breakfast,  which  was  a  repetition  of  sup- 
per, was  ready,  and  we  sat  down  to  the  table.  During  the 
meal,  it  occurred  to  me  to  make  an  experimental  remark. 
Turning  suddenly  to  the  man,  I  asked, — 

"  Is  your  name  Eber  Nicholson  ?" 

"  There !"  exclaimed  the  woman,  "  I  knowed  he'd  heerd 
it!" 

He,  however,  flushing  a  moment,  and  then  becoming 
more  sallow  than  ever,  nodded  first,  and  then — as  if  that 
were  not  suflicient — added,  "  Yes,  that's  my  name." 

"  Where  did  you  move  from  ?"  I  continued,  falling  back 
on  the  first  plan  I  had  formed  in  my  mind. 

"  The  "Western  Reserve,  not  fur  from  Hudson." 


THE  HAUNTED  SHANTY.  489 

I  turned  the  conversation  on  the  comparative  advantages 
of  Ohio  and  Illinois,  on  farming,  the  price  of  land,  etc., 
carefully  avoiding  the  dangerous  subject,  and  by  the  time 
breakfast  was  over  had  arranged,  that,  for  a  consideration, 
he  should  accompany  me  as  far  as  the  Bloomington  road, 
some  five  miles  distant. 

While  he  went  out  to  catch  an  old  horse,  ranging  loose 
in  the  creek-bottom,  I  saddled  Peck,  strapped  on  my  valise, 
and  made  myself  ready  for  the  journey.  The  feeling  of 
two  sDver  half-dollars  in  her  hard  palm  melted  down  the 
woman's  aggressive  mood,  and  she  said,  with  a  voice  the 
edge  whereof  was  mightily  blunted, — 

"  Thankee !  it's  too  much  for  sich  as  you  had." 

"  It's  the  best  you  can  give^"  I  replied. 

"  That's  so !''  said  she,  jerking  my  hand  up  and  down 
with  a  pumping  movement,  as  I  took  leave. 

I  felt  a  sense  of  relief  when  we  had  climbed  the  rise  and 
had  the  open  prairie  again  before  us.  The  sky  was  over- 
cast and  the  wind  strong,  but  some  rain  had  fallen  during 
the  night,  and  the  clouds  had  lifted  themselves  again.  The 
air  was  fresh  and  damp,  but  not  chill.  We  rode  slowly, 
of  necessity,  for  the  mud  was  deeper  than  ever. 

I  deliberated  what  course  I  should  take,  in  order  to  draw 
from  my  guide  the  explanation  of  the  nightly  noises.  His 
evident  shrinking,  whenever  his  wife  referred  to  the  sub- 
ject, convinced  me  that  a  gradual  approach  would  render 
him  shy  and  uneasy ;  and,  on  the  whole,  it  seemed  best  to 
surprise  him  by  a  sudden  assault.  Let  me  strike  to  the 
heart  of  the  secret  at  once, — I  thought, — and  the  details 
will  come  of  themselves. 

21* 


490  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

While  I  was  thus  reflecting,  he  rode  quietly  by  my  side. 
Half  turning  in  the  saddle,  I  looked  steadily  at  his  face,  and 
said,  in  an  earnest  voice, — 

"  Eber  Nicholson,  who  was  it  to  whom  you  were  mar- 
ried in  the  sight  of  God  ?'' 

He  started  as  if  struck,  looked  at  me  imploringly,  turned 
away  his  eyes,  then  looked  back,  became  very  pale,  and 
finally  said,  in  a  broken,  hesitating  voice,  as  if  the  words 
were  forced  from  him  against  his  will, — 

"  Her  name  is  Rachel  Emmons." 

"  Why  did  you  murder  her  ?"  I  asked,  in  a  still  sterner 
tone. 

In  an  instant  his  face  burned  scarlet.  He  reined  up  his 
horse  with  a  violent  pull,  straightened  his  shoulders  so  that 
he  appeared  six  inches  taller,  looked  steadily  at  me  with  a 
strange,  mixed  expression  of  anger  and  astonishment,  and 
cried  out, — 

"  Murder  her?     TFAy,  she's  livin''  now!'*^ 

My  surprise  at  the  answer  was  scarcely  less  great  than 
his  at  the  question. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  she's  not  dead  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Why,  no  I"  said  he,  recovering  from  his  sudden  excite- 
ment, "  she's  not  dead,  or  she  wouldn't  keep  on  troublin' 
me.     She's  been  livin'  in  Toledo,  these  ten  year." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  friend,"  said  I ;  "  biit  I  don't 
know  what  to  think  of  what  I  heard  last  night,  and  I 
suppose  I  have  the  old  notion  in  my  head  that  all  ghosts 
are  of  persons  who  have  been  murdered." 

"  Oh,  if  I  had  killed  her,"  he  groaned,  "  I'd  'a'  been  hung 
long  ago,  an'  there  'd  'a'  been  an  end  of  it." 


THE  HAUNTED  SHANTY.  491 

"  Tell  me  the  whole  story,"  said  I.  "  It's  hardly  likely 
that  I  can  help  you,  but  I  can  understand  how  you  must 
be  troubled,  and  I'm  sure  I  pity  you  from  my  heart." 

I  think  he  felt  relieved  at  my  proposal, — glad,  perhaps, 
after  long  silence,  to  confide  to  another  man  the  secret  of 
his  lonely,  wretched  life. 

"  After  what  you've  heerd,"  said  he,  "  there's  nothin* 
that  I  don't  care  to  tell.  I've  been  sinful,  no  doubt, — but, 
God  knows,  there  never  was  a  man  woi'se  punished. 

"  I  told  you,"  he  continued,  after  a  pause,  "  that  I  come 
from  the  Western  Reserve.  My  father  was  a  middlin'  well- 
to-do  farmer, — not  rich,  nor  yit  exactly  poor.  He's  dead 
now.  lie  was  always  a  savin'  man, — looked  after  money 
a  leetle  too  sharp,  I've  often  thought  sence :  howsever,  'tisn't 
my  place  to  judge  him.  Well,  I  was  brought  up  on  the 
farm,  to  hard  work,  like  the  other  boys.  Rachel  Emmons, 
— she's  the  same  woman  that  haunts  me,  you  understand, 
— she  was  the  girl  o'  one  of  our  neighbors,  an'  poor  enough 
he  was.  His  wife  was  always  sickly-like,— an'  you  know 
it  takes  a  woman  as  well  as  a  man  to  git  rich  farmin'.  So 
they  Avere  always  scrimped,  but  that  didn't  hinder  Rachel 
from  bein'  one  o'  the  likeliest  gals  round.  We  went  to  the 
same  school  in  the  winter,  her  an'  me,  ('tisn't  much  school- 
in'  I  ever  got,  though,)  an'  I  had  a  sort  o'  nateral  hankerin' 
after  her,  as  fur  back  as  I  can  remember.  She  was  diflfer- 
ent  lookin'  then  from  what  she  is  now, — an'  me,  too,  for 
that  matter. 

"  Well,  you  know  how  boys  an'  gals  somehow  git  to 
likin'  each  other  afore  they  know  it.  Me  an'  Rachel  was 
more  an'  more  together,  the  more  we  growed  up,  only  more 


492  AT    HOME   AXD    ABROAD. 

secret-like ;  so  by  the  time  I  was  twenty  an'  she  was  nine- 
teen, we  was  promised  to  one  another  as  true  as  could  be. 
I  didn't  keep  company  with  her,  though — leastways,  not 
reg'lar  :  I  was  afeard  my  father  'd  find  it  out,  an'  I  knowed 
what  he  'd  say  to  it.  He  kep'  glvin'  me  hints  about  Mary 
Ann  Jones — that  was  my  wife's  maiden  name.  Her  father 
had  two  hundred  acres  an'  money  out  at  interest,  an'  only 
three  children.  He'd  had  ten,  but  seven  of  'em  died.  I 
had  nothin'  agin  Mary  Ann,  but  I  never  thought  of  her  that 
way,  like  I  did  towards  Rachel. 

"  Well,  things  kep'  runnin'  on ;  I  was  a  good  deal  wor- 
ried about  it,  but  a  young  feller,  you  know,  don't  look  fur 
ahead,  an'  so  I  got  along.  One  night,  howsever — 't  was 
jist  about  as  dark  as  last  night  was — I'd  been  to  the  store 
at  the  Corners,  for  a  jug  o'  molasses.  Rachel  was  there, 
gittin'  a  quarter  of  a  pound  o'  tea,  I  think  it  was,  an'  some 
sewin'-thread.  I  went  out  a  little  while  after  her,  an'  fol- 
lered  as  fast  as  I  could,  for  we  had  the  same  road  nigh  to 
home. 

"  It  weren't  long  afore  I  overtook  her.  'Twas  mighty 
dark,  as  I  was  sayin',  an'  so  I  hooked  her  arm  into  mine, 
an'  we  went  on  comfortable  together,  talkin'  about  how  we 
jist  suited  each  other,  like  we  was  cut  out  o'  purpose,  an' 
how  long  we'd  have  to  wait,  an'  what  folks  'd  say.  O 
Lord  !  don't  I  remember  every  word  o'  that  night  ?  Well, 
we  got  quite  tender-like  when  we  come  t'  Old  Emmons's 
gate,  an'  I  up  an'  giv'  her  a  hug  and  a  lot  o'  kisses,  to  make 
up  for  lost  time.  Then  she  went  into  the  house,  an'  I 
turned  for  home  ;  but  I  hadn't  gone  ten  steps  afore  I  come 
agin  somebody  stan'iu'  in  the  middle  o'  the  road.     '  Hullo  !' 


THE   HAUNTED   SHANTY.  493 

says  I.  The  next  thing  he  had  a  holt  o'  my  coat-collar  an' 
shuck  me  like  a  tamer-dog  shakes  a  rat.  I  knowed  who  it 
was  afore  he  spoke  ;  an'  I  couldn't  'a'  been  more  skeered, 
if  the  life  had  all  gone  out  o'  me.  He'd  been  clown  to  the 
tavern  to  see  a  drover,  an'  comin  home  he'd  follered  behind 
us  all  the  way,  hearin'  every  word  we  said. 

"  I  don't  like  to  think  o'  the  words  he  used  that  night. 
He  was  a  professin'  member,  an'  yit  he  swore  the  awfullest 
I  ever  heerd." — Here  the  man  involuntarily  raised  his  hands 
to  his  ears,  as  if  to  stop  them  against  even  the  memory  of 
his  father's  curses. — "  I  expected  every  minute  he'd  'a' 
struck  me  down.  I've  wished,  sence,  he  had:  I  don't 
think  I  could  'a'  stood  that.  Howsever,  he  dragged  me 
home,  never  lettin'  go  ray  collar,  till  we  got  into  the  room 
where  mother  was  settin'  up  for  us.  Then  he  told  her.,  only 
makin'  it  ten  times  harder  'n  it  really  Avas.  Mother  always 
kind  o'  liked  Rachel,  'cause  she  was  mighty  handy  at  sewin' 
an'  quiltin',  but  she  'd  no  more  dared  stan'  uj)  agin  father 
than  a  sheep  agin  a  bull-dog.  She  looked  at  me  pityin'-like, 
I  must  say,  an'  jist  begun  to  cry — an'  I  couldn't  help  cryin' 
nuther,  when  I  saw  how  it  hurt  her. 

"  Well,  after  that,  't  wa'n't  no  use  thinkin'  o'  Rachel  any 
more.  I  had  to  go  t'  Old  Jones's,  whether  I  wanted  to  or 
no.  I  felt  mighty  mean  when  I  thought  o'  Rachel,  an'  was 
afeard  no  good  'd  come  of  it ;  but  father  jist  managed  things 
his  way,  an'  I  couldn't  help  myself.  Old  Jones  had  nothin' 
agin  me,  for  I  was  a  stiddy,  hard-workin'  feller  as  there  was 
round — an'  Mary  Ann  was  always  as  pleasant  as  could  be, 
then  ; — well,  I  oughtn't  to  say  nothin'  agin  her  now  ;  she 's 
had  a  hard  life  of  it,  'long  side  o'  me.     Afore  long  we  were 


491  AT    HOME    AND    ABIIOAD. 

bespoke,  an'  the  day  set.  Father  hurried  things,  when  it 
got  that  fur.  I  don't  think  Rachel  knowed  anything  about 
it  till  the  day  afore  the  weddin',  or  niebby  the  very  day. 
Old  Mr.  Larrabee  was  the  minister,  an'  there  was  only  the 
two  families  at  the  house,  an'  Miss  Plankerton — her  that 
sewed  for  Mary  Ann.  I  never  felt  so  oneasy  in  my  life, 
though  I  tried  hard  not  to  show  it. 

"■  Well,  'twas  all  jist  over,  an'  the  kissin'  about  "to  begin, 
when  I  heerd  the  house-door  bu'st  open,  suddent.  I  felt 
my  heart  give  one  jump  right  up  to  the  root  o'  my 
tongue,  an'  then  fell  back  ag'in,  sick  an'  dead-like. 

"  The  parlor-door  flew  open  right  away,  an'  in  come 
Rachel  without  a  bunnet,  an'  her  hair  all  frowzed  by  the 
wind.  She  was  as  white  as  a  sheet,  an'  her  eyes  like  two 
burnin'  coals.  She  walked  straight  through  'em  all  an' 
stood  right  afore  me.  They  was  all  so  taken  aback  that 
they  never  thought  o'  stoppin'  her.  Then  she  kind  o' 
screeched  out — '  Eber  Nicholson,  what  are  you  doin'  ?' 
Her  voice  was  strange  an'  onnatural-like,  an'  I'd  never 
'a'  knowed  it  to  be  hern,  if  I  hadn't  'a'  seen  her.  I 
couldn't  take  my  eyes  off  of  her,  an'  I  couldn't  speak : 
I  jist  stood  there.  Then  she  said  ag'in — '  Eber  Nichol- 
son, what  are  you  doin'  ?  You  are  married  to  me,  in 
the  sight  of  God.  You  belong  to  me  an'  I  to  you,  for- 
ever an'  forever !"  Then  they  begun  cryin'  out — '  Go 
'way  !'  '  Take  her  away  !'  '  What  d's  she  mean  ?'  an' 
old  Mr.  Larrabee  ketched  hold  of  her  arm.  She  begun 
to  jerk  an'  trimble  all  over ;  she  drawed  in  her  breath 
in  a  sort  o'  groanin'  way,  awful  to  hear,  an'  then  drop- 
ped down  on  the  floor  in  a  fit.      I  bu'st  out  in  a  terri- 


THE    HAU^TTED    SHAXTT,  496 

ble  spell  o'  cryin' ; — I  couldn't  'a'  helped  it,  to  save  my 
life." 

The  man  paused,  drew  his  sleeve  across  his  eyes,  and 
then  timidly  looked  at  me.  Seeing  nothing  in  my  face, 
doubtless,  but  an  expression  of  the  profoundest  commisera- 
tion, he  remarked,  with  a  more  assured  voice,  as  if  in  self- 
justification — 

"  It  was  a  pretty  hard  thing  for  a  man  to  go  through 
with,  now,  wasn't  it  ?'' 

"  You  may  well  say  that,"  said  I.  "  Your  story  is  not 
yet  finished,  however.  This  Rachel  Emmons — you  say  she 
is  still  living — in  what  way  does  she  cause  the  disturb- 
ances ?" 

"  lil  tell  you  aU  I  know  about  it,"  said  he — "  an'  if 
you  understand  it  tlien^  you're  wiser  'n  I  am.  After  they 
carried  her  home,  she  had  a  long  spell  o'  sickness — come 
near  dyin',  they  said  ;  but  they  brought  her  througl),  at 
last,  an'  she  got  about  ag'in,  lookin'  ten  year  older.  I  kep' 
out  of  her  sight,  though.  I  lived  awhile  at  Old  Jones's, 
till  I  could  find  a  good  farm  to  rent,  or  a  cheap  un  to  buy. 
I  wanted  to  git  out  o'  the  neighborhood  :  I  was  oneasy  all 
the  time,  beiu'  so  near  Rachel.  Her  mother  was  wuss,  an' 
her  father  failin'-like,  too.  Mother  seen  'em  often  :  she  was 
as  good  a  neighbor  to  'em  as  she  dared  be.  Well,  I  got 
sort  o'  tired,  an'  went  out  to  Michi<7an  an'  bought  a  likely 
farm.  Old  Jones  giv'  me  a  start.  I  took  Mary  Ann  out, 
an'  we  got  along  well  enough,  a  matter  o'  two  year.  We 
heerd  from  home  now  an'  then.  Rachel's  father  and 
mother  both  died,  about  the  time  we  had  our  first  boy 
— him  that    you  seen — an'   she    went  off  to  Toledo,  we 


496  AT   HOME   AND   ABROAD. 

heerd,  an'  hired  out  to  do  sevvin'.  She  was  always  a 
mighty  good  hand  at  it,  an'  could  cut  out  as  nice  as  a 
born  manty-maker.  She'd  had  another  fit  after  the  fune- 
rals, an'  was  older-lookin'  an'  more  serious  than  ever,  they 
said. 

"  Well,  Jimmy  was  six  months  old,  or  so,  when  we 
begun  to  be  woke  up  every  night  by  his  cryin'.  Nothin' 
seemed  to  be  the  matter  with  him :  he  was  only  fright- 
ened-like, an'  couldn't  be  quieted.  I  heerd  noises  some- 
times— nothin'  like  what  come  afterwards — but  sort  o' 
crackin'  an'  snappin',  sich  as  you  hear  in  new  furnitur', 
an'  it  seemed  like  somebody  was  in  the  room  ;  but  I 
couldn't  find  nothin'.  It  got  wuss  and  wuss :  Mary  Ann 
was  sui'e  the  house  was  haunted,  an'  I  had  to  let  her 
go  home  for  a  whole  winter.  When  she  was  away,  it 
went  on  the  same  as  ever — not  every  night — sometimes 
not  more  'n  oust  a  week — but  so  loud  as  to  wake  me 
up,  rcg'lar.  I  sent  word  to  Mary  Ann  to  come  on,  an' 
I'd  sell  out  an'  go  to  Illinois.  Good  perairah  land  was 
cheap  then,  an'  I'd  ruther  go  furder  off,  for  the  sake  o' 
quiet. 

"  So  we  pulled  up  stakes  an'  come  out  here :  but  it 
weren't  long  afore  the  noise  follered  us,  wuss  'n  ever,  an' 
we  found  out  at  last  what  it  was.  One  night  I  woke 
up,  with  my  hair  stan'in'  on  end,  an'  heerd  Rachel  Em- 
mons's voice,  jist  as  you  heerd  it  last  night.  Mary  Ann 
heerd  it  too,  an'  it's  little  peace  she's  giv'  me  sence  that 
time.  An'  so  it's  been  goin'  on  an'  on,  these  eight  or  nine 
year.'' 

"  But,"  I  asked,  "  are  you  sure  she  is  alive?     Have  you 


THE    HAUNTED   SHANTY.  49V 

seen  her  since  ?     Have  you  asked  her  to  be  merciful  and 
not  disturb  you  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  with  a  bitterness  of  tone  which  seemed 
quite  to  obliterate  the  softer  memories  of  his  love,  "  I've 
seen  her,  an'  I've  begged  her  on  my  knees  to  let  me  alone  ; 
but  it's  no  use.  When  it  got  to  be  so  bad  I  couldn't  stan' 
it,  I  sent  her  a  letter,  but  I  never  got  no  answer.  Next 
year,  when  our  second  boy  died,  frightened  and  worried  to 
death,  I  believe,  though  he  icas  scrawny  enough  when  he 
was  bom,  I  took  some  money  I'd  saved  to  buy  a  yoke  of 
oxen,  an'  went  to  Toledo  o'  purpose  to  see  Rachel.  It  cut 
me  awful  to  do  it,  but  I  was  desprit.  I  found  her  livin'  in 
a  little  house,  with  a  bit  o»  garden,  she'd  bought.  I  s'pose 
she  must  'a'  had  five  or  six  hundred  dollars  when  the  farm 
was  sold,  an'  she  made  a  good  deal  by  sewin',  besides.  She 
w:is  settin'  at  her  work  when  I  went  in,  an'  knowed  me  at 
onst,  thougli  I  don't  believe  I'd  ever  'a'  knowed  her.  Slie 
Avas  old,  an'  thin,  an'  hard-lookin' ;  her  mouth  was  pale  an' 
sot,  like  she  was  bitin'  somethin'  all  the  time ;  an'  her  eyes, 
though  they  was  sunk  into  her  head,  seemed  to  look  through 
an'  through  an'  away  out  th'  other  side  o'  you. 

"  It  jist  shut  me  up  when  she  looked  at  me.  She  was  so 
corpse-like  I  was  afraid  she'd  drop  dead,  then  and  there : 
but  I  made  out  at  last  to  say,  'Rachel,  I've  come  all  the 
Avay  from  Illinois  to  see  you.'  She  kep'  lookin'  straight  at 
me,  never  sayin'  a  word.  '  Rachel,'  says  I,  '  I  know  I've 
acted  bad  towards  you.  God  knows  I  didn't  mean  to  do  it. 
I  don't  blame  you  for  payin'  it  back  to  me  the  way  you're 
doin',  but  Mary  Ann  an'  the  boy  never  done  you  no  harm. 
Tve  come  all  the  w^ay  o'  purpose  to  ask  yoiy  forgiveness. 


498  AT    HOME   AND    ABROAD. 

hopin'  you'll  be  satisfied  with  what's  heen  done,  an'  leave  off 
bearin'  malice  agin  us.'  She  looked  kind  o'  sorrowful-like, 
but  drawed  a  deep  breath,  an'  shuck  her  head.  '  Oh, 
Rachel,'  says  I — an'  afore  I  knowed  it  I  was  right  down  on 
my  knees  at  her  feet — '  Rachel,  don't  be  so  hard  on  me. 
I'm  the  onhappiest  man  that  lives.  I  can't  stan'  it  no 
longer,  Rachel,  you  didn't  use  to  be  so  cruel,  when  we 
was  boys  an'  girls  together.  Do  forgive  me,  an'  leave  off 
hauntin'  me  so.' 

"  Then  she  spoke  up,  at  last,  an'  says  she — 

*' '  Eber  Nicholson,  I  was  married  to  you,  in  the  sight  o' 
God!' 

"  '  I  know  it,'  says  I ;  '  you  say  it  to  me  every  night ;  an' 
it  wasn't  my  doin's  that  you're  not  my  wife  now :  but, 
Rachel,  if  I'd  'a'  betrayed  you,  an'  ruined  you,  an'  killed 
you,  God  couldn't  'a'  punished  me  worse  than  you're  a-pun- 
ishin'  me.' 

"Shegiv'  a  kind  o'  groan,  an'  two  tears  run  down  her 
white  face.  '  Eber  Nicholson,'  says  she,  '  ask  God  to  help 
you,  for  I  can't.  There  might  'a'  been  a  time,'  says  she, 
'  when  I  could  'a'  done  it,  but  it's  too  late  now.' 

"  '  Don't  say  that,  Rachel,'  says  I ;  '  it's  never  too  late  to 
be  merciful  an'  forgivin'.' 

" '  It  doesn't  depend  on  myself,'  says  she ;  '  I'm  sent  to 
you.  It's  th'  only  comfort  I  have  in  life  to  be  near  you ; 
but  I'd  give  up  that,  if  I  could.  Pray  to  God  to  let  me 
die,  for  then  we  shall  both  have  rest.' 

"  An'  that  was  all  I  could  git  out  of  her. 

"  I  come  home  ag'in,  knowiu'  I'd  spent  my  money  for 
notbin'.     Senxse  then,  it's  been  jist  the  same  as  before — not 


THE    HAUNTED   SHANTY.  499 

reg'lar  every  night,  tut  sort  o'  comes  on  by  spells,  an'  then 
stops  three  or  four  days,  an'  then  comes  on  ag'in.  Fact  is, 
what's  the  use  o'  livin'  in  this  way  ?  We  can't  be  neigh- 
borly ;  we're  afeard  to  have  anybody  come  to  see  us  ;  we've 
get  no  peace,  no  comfort  o'  bein'  together,  an'  no  heart  to 
work  an'  git  ahead,  like  other  folks.  It's  jist  killin'  me, 
body  an'  soul." 

Here  the  poor  wretch  fairly  broke  down,  bursting  sud- 
denly into  an  uncontrollable  fit  of  weeping.  I  waited  qui- 
etly until  the  violence  of  his  passion  had  subsided.  A 
misery  so  strange,  so  completely  out  of  the  range  of  human 
exi)erience,  so  hopeless  apparently,  was  not  to  be  reached 
by  the  ordinary  utterances  of  consolation.  I  had  seen 
enough  to  enable  me  fully  to  understand  the  fearful  nature 
of  the  retribution  which  had  been  visited  upon  him  for  what 
was,  at  worst,  a  weakness  to  be  pitied,  rather  than  a  sin 
to  be  chastised.  "  Never  was  a  man  worse  punished,"  he 
had  truly  said.  But  I  was  as  far  as  ever  from  comprehend- 
ing the  secret  of  those  nightly  visitations.  The  statement 
of  Rachel  Emmons,  that  they  were  now  produced  without 
her  will,  overturned — supposing  it  to  be  true — the  con- 
jecture which  I  might  otherwise  have  adopted.  However, 
it  was  now  plain  that  the  unhappy  victim  sobbing  at  my 
side  could  tlirow  no  further  light  on  the  mystery.  He  had 
told  me  all  he  know. 

"  My  friend,"  said  I,  when  he  had  become  calmer,  "  I 
do  not  wonder  at  your  desperation.  Such  continual  tor- 
ment as  you  must  have  endured  is  enough  to  drive  a  man 
to  madness.  It  seems  to  me  to  spring  from  the  malice  of 
some  infernal  power,  rather  than  the  righteous  justice  of 


500  AT    HOME   AXD    ABROAD. 

God.  Have  you  never  tried  to  resist  it  ?  Have  you  never 
called  aloud,  in  your  heart,  for  Divine  help,  and  gathered 
up  your  strength  to  meet  and  defy  it,  as  you  would  to  meet 
a  man  who  threatened  your  life  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  right  way,  I'm  afeard,"  said  he.  "  Fact  is, 
I  always  tuck  it  as  a  judgment  hangin'  over  me,  an'  never 
thought  o'  nothin'  else  than  jist  to  gi'in  and  bear  it." 

"  Enough  of  that,"  I  urged — for  a  hope  of  relief  had  sug- 
gested itself  to  me;  "  you  have  suffered  enough,  and  more 
than  enough.  Now  stand  ujd  to  meet  it  like  a  man.  When 
the  noises  come  again,  think  of  what  you  have  endured,  and 
let  it  make  you  indignant  and  determined.  Decide  in  your 
heart  that  you  will  be  free  from  it,  and  perhaps  you  may 
be  so.  If  not,  build  another  shanty  and  sleep  away  from 
your  wife  and  boy,  so  that  they  may  escape,  at  least.  Give 
yourself  this  claim  to  your  wife's  gratitude,  and  she  will  be 
kind  and  forbearing." 

"I  don't  know  but  you're  more  'n  half  right,  stranger," 
he  replied,  in  a  more  cheerful  tone.  "Fact  is,  I  never 
thought  on  it  that  Avay.  It's  lightened  my  heart  a  heap, 
tellin'  you  ;  an'  if  I'm  not  too  broke  an'  used-up-like,  I'll  try 
to  foller  your  advice.  I  couldn't  marry  Rachel  now,  if 
Mary  Ann  was  dead,  we've  been  druv  so  fur  apart.  I  don't 
know  how  it'll  be  when  we're  all  dead :  I  s'pose  them  '11 
go  together  that  belongs  together  ;  leastways,  't  ought  to 
be  so." 

Here  we  struck  the  Bloomington  road,  and  I  no  longer 
needed  a  guide.  When  we  pulled  our  horses  around,  facing 
each  other,  I  noticed  that  the  flush  of  excitement  still  burned 
on  the  man's  sallow  cheek,  and  his  eyes,  washed  by  pro- 


THE   HAUNTED    SHAMTY.  501 

bably  the  first  fi-eshet  of  feeling  which  had  moistened  them 
for  yeai-s,  shone  with  a  faint  lustre  of  courage. 

"  No,  no — none  o'  that !"  said  he,  as  I  was  taking  out 
my  porte-monnaie  ;  "  you've  done  me  a  mighty  sight  more 
good  than  I've  done  you,  let  alone  payin'  me  to  boot. 
Don't  forgit  the  turn  to  the  left,  after  crossin'  Jackson's 
Hun.     Good-bye,  stranger !     Take  good  keer  o'  yourself!" 

And  with  a  strong,  clinging,  lingering  grasp  of  the  hand, 
in  which  the  i)0(>r  fellow  expressed  the  gratitude  which  he 
was  too  shy  and  awkward  to  put  into  words,  we  parted. 
He  turned  his  horse's  head,  and  slowly  plodded  back  through 
the  mud  towards  the  lonely  shanty. 

On  my  way  to  Bloomington,  I  went  over  and  over  the 
man's  story,  in  memory.  The  facts  were  tolerably  clear 
and  coherent :  his  narrative  was  simple  and  credible  enough, 
after  my  own  personal  experience  of  the  mysterious  noises, 
and  the  secret,  whatever  it  was,  must  be  sought  for  in 
Rachel  Emmons.  She  was  still  living  in  Toledo,  Ohio,  he 
said,  and  earned  her  living  as  a  seamstress  ;  it  would,  there- 
fore, not  be  difficult  to  find  her.  I  confess,  after  his  own 
unsatisfactory  interview,  I  had  little  hope  of  penetrating 
her  singular  reserve  ;  but  I  felt  the  strongest  desire  to  see 
her,  at  least,  and  thus  test  the  complete  reality  of  a  story 
which  surpassed  the  wildest  fiction.  After  visiting  Torre 
Haute,  the  next  point  to  which  business  called  me,  on  the 
homeward  route,  was  Cleveland  ;  and  by  giving  an  addi- 
tional day  to  the  journey,  I  could  easily  take  Toledo  on  my 
way.  Between  memory  and  expectation  the  time  passed 
rapidly,  and  a  week  later  I  registered  my  name  at  the 
Island  House,  Toledo. 


502  AT    HOME    A^D    ABROAD. 

After  wandering  about  for  an  hour  or  two,  the  next 
morning,  I  finally  discovered  the  residence  of  Rachel  Em- 
mons. It  was  a  small  story-and-a-half  frame  building,  on 
the  western  edge  of  the  town,  with  a  locust-tree  in  front, 
two  lilacs  inside  the  paling,  and  a  wilderness  of  cabbage- 
stalks  and  currant-bushes  in  the  rear.  After  much  cogita- 
tion, I  had  not  been  able  to  decide  upon  any  plan  of  action, 
and  the  interval  between  my  knock  and  the  oiDcning  of  the 
door  was  one  of  considerable  embarrassment  to  me.  A 
small,  plumpish  woman  of  forty,  with  peaked  nose,  black 
eyes,  and  but  two  upper  teeth,  confronted  me.  She,  cer- 
tainly, was  not  the  one  I  sought. 

"  Is  your  name  Rachel  Emmons  ?"  I  asked,  nevertheless. 

"  No,  I'm  not  her.     This  is  her  house,  though." 

"  Will  you  tell  her  a  gentleman  wants  to  see  her  ?"  said 
I,  putting  my  foot  inside  the  door  as  I  spoke.  The  room, 
I  saw,  was  plainly,  but  neatly  furnished.  A  rag-carpet 
covered  the  floor ;  green  rush-bottomed  chairs,  a  settee 
with  chintz  cover,  and  a  straight-backed  rocking-chair  were 
distributed  around  the  walls ;  and  for  ornament  there  was 
an  aljjhabetical  sampler  in  a  frame,  over  the  low  wooden 
mantel-piece. 

The  woman,  however,  still  held  the  door-knob  in-  her 
hand,  saying,  "  Miss  Emmons  is  busy.  She  can't  well  leave 
her  work.     Did  you  want  some  sewin'  done  ?'' 

"  No,"  said  I ;  "  I  wish  to  speak  with  her.  It's  on  pri- 
vate and  particular  business.'' 

"  Well,"  she  answered  with  some  hesitation,  "  I'll  tell  her. 
Take  a  cheer." 

She  disappeared  through  a  door  into  a  back  room,  and  I 


THE  HAUNTED  SHANTY.  503 

sat  down.  In  another  minute  the  door  noiselessly  reopened, 
and  Rachel  Emmons  came  softly  into  the  room.  I  believe 
I  should  have  known  her  anywhere.  Though  from  Eber 
Nicholson's  narrative  she  could  not  have  been  much  over 
thirty,  she  appeared  to  be  at  least  forty-five.  Her  hair  was 
streaked  with  gray,  her  face  thin  and  of  an  unnatural  waxy 
pallor,  her  lips  of  a  whitish-blue  color  and  tightly  pressed 
together,  and  her  eyes,  seemingly  sunken  far  back  in  their 
orbits,  burned  with  a  strange,  ghastly — I  had  almost  said 
phosphorescent — ^hght.  I  remember  thinking  they  must 
shine  hke  touch-wood  in  the  dark.  I  have  come  in  contact 
wath  too  many  persons,  passed  through  too  wide  a  range 
of  experience,  to  lose  my  self-possession  easily ;  but  I  could 
not  meet  the  cold,  steady  gaze  of  those  eyes  without  a 
strong  internal  trepidation.  It  would  have  been  the  same, 
if  I  had  known  nothing  about  her. 

She  was  probably  surprised  at  seeing  a  stranger,  but  I 
could  discern  no  trace  of  it  in  her  face.  She  advanced  but 
a  few  steps  into  the  room,  and  then  stopped,  waiting  for  me 
to  speak. 

"  You  are  Rachel  Emmons  ?"  I  asked,  since  a  commence- 
ment of  some  sort  must  be  made. 

"Yes." 

"  I  come  from  Eber  Nicholson,''  said  I,  fixing  my  eyes  on 
her  face. 

Not  a  muscle  moved,  not  a  nerve  quivered,  but  I  fancied 
that  a  faint  purple  flush  played  for  an  instant  under  the 
white  mask.  If  I  were  correct,  it  was  but  momentary. 
She  lifted  her  left  hand  slowly,  pressed  it  on  her  heart, 
and  then  let  it  fall.    The  motion  was  so  calm  that  I  should 


504  AT    HOME    AND    ABROAR. 

not  have  noticed  it,  if  I  had  not  been  watching  her  so 
steadily. 

"  Well  ?"  she  said,  after  a  pause, 

"Rachel  Emmons,"  said  I, — and  more  than  one  cause 
conspired  to  make  my  voice  earnest  and  authoritative, — "  I 
know  all.  I  come  to  you  not  to  meddle  with  the  sorrow — 
let  me  say  the  sin — which  has  blighted  your  life ;  not  be- 
cause Eber  Nicholson  sent  me ;  not  to  defend  him  or  to 
accuse  you ;  but  from  that  solemn  sense  of  duty  which 
makes  every  man  responsible  to  God  for  what  he  does  or 
leaves  undone.  An  equal  pity  for  him  and  for  you  forces 
me  to  speak.  He  cannot  plead  his  cause  ;  you  cannot  un- 
derstand his  misery.  I  will  not  ask  by  what  wonderful 
power  you  continue  to  torment  his  life ;  I  will  not  even 
doubt  that  you  pity  while  you  afflict  him ;  but  I  ask  you  to 
reflect  whether  the  selfishness  of  your  sorrow  may  not  have 
hardened  your  heart,  and  blinded  you  to  that  consolation 
which  God  offers  to  those  who  humbly  seek  it.  You  say 
that  you  are  married  to  Eber  Nicholson,  in  His  sight. 
Think,  Rachel  Emmons,  think  of  that  moment  when  you 
will  stand  before  His  awful  bar,  and  the  poor,  broken,  suf- 
fering soul,  whom  your  foi'giveness  might  still  make  yours 
in  the  holy  marriage  of  heaven,  shrinks  from  you  with  fear 
and  pain,  as  in  the  remembered  persecutions  of  earth !" 

The  words  came  hot  from  my  very  heart,  and  the  ice- 
crust  of  years  under  which  hers  lay  benumbed  gave  way 
before  them.  She  trembled  slightly ;  and  the  same  sad, 
hopeless  moan  which  I  had  heard  at  midnight  in  the  Illinois 
shanty  came  from  her  lips.  She  sank  into  a  chair,  letting 
her  hands  fall  heavily  at  her  side.     There  was  no  move- 


THE  HAUNTED  SHANTY.  605 

ment  of  her  features,  yet  I  saw  that  her  waxy  cheeks  were 
moist,  as  with  the  slow  ooze  of  tears  so  long  unshed  that 
they  had  forgotten  their  natural  flow. 

"  I  do  pity  him,"  she  murmured  at  last,  "  and  I  believe  I 
forgive  him ;  but,  oh !  I've  become  an  instrument  of  wrath 
for  the  punishment  of  both." 

If  any  feeling  of  reproof  still  lingered  in  my  mind,  her 
appearance  disarmed  me  at  once.  I  felt  nothing  but  pity 
for  her  forlorn,  helpless  state.  It  was  the  apathy  of  des- 
pair, rather  than  the  coldness  of  cherished  malice,  which 
had  so  frozen  her  life.  Still,  the  mystery  of  those  nightly 
persecutions ! 

"  Rachel  Emmons,''  I  said,  "  you  certainly  know  that  you 
still  continue  to  destroy  the  peace  of  Eber  Nicholson  and 
his  family.  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  cannot  cease  to 
do  so,  if  you  would  ?" 

"  It  is  too  late,"  said  she,  shaking  her  head  slowly,  as  she 
clasped  both  hands  hard  against  her  breast.  "  Do  you  think 
I  would  suffer,  night  after  night,  if  I  could  help  it  ?  Have- 
n't I  stayed  awake  for  days,  till  my  strength  gave  way, 
rather  than  fall  asleep,  for  his  sake  ?  Wouldn't  I  give  my 
life  to  be  free  ? — and  would  have  taken  it,  long  ago,  with 
my  own  hands,  but  for  the  sin  !" 

She  spoke  in  a  low  voice,  but  with  a  wild  earnestness 
which  startled  me.     She,  then,  was  equally  a  victim ! 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  this  thing  had  a  beginning.  Why  did 
you  visit  him  in  the  first  place,  when,  perhaps,  you  might 
have  prevented  it  ?" 

"  I  am  afiaid  that  was  my  sin,"  she  replied,  "  and  this  is 
the  punishment.     When  father  and  mother  died,  and  I  wJis 

22 


606  AT   HOME    AND   ABKOAD. 

layin'  sick  and  weak,  with  nothin'  to  do  but  think  of  him^ 
and  me  all  alone  in  the  world,  and  not  knowin'  how  to  live 
without  him,  because  I  had  nobody  left, — that's  "when  it 
begun.  When  the  deadly  kind  o'  sleeps  came  on — they 
used  to  think  I  was  dead,  or  faintin',  at  first — and  I  could 
go  where  my  heart  drawed  me,  and  look  at  him  away  off 
where  he  lived,  'twas  consolin',  and  I  didn't  try  to  stop  it. 
I  used  to  long  for  the  night,  so  I  could  go  and  be  near  him 
for  an  hour  or  two.  I  don't  know  how  I  Avent ;  it  seemed 
to  come  of  itself.  After  a  while  I  felt  I  was  troublin'  him 
and  doin'  no  good  to  myself,  but  the  sleeps  came  just  the 
same  as  ever,  and  then  I  couldn't  help  myself.  They're 
only  a  sorrow  to  me  now,  but  I  s'pose  I  shall  have  'em  till 
I'm  laid  in  my  grave." 

This  was  all  the  explanation  she  could  give.  It  was  evi- 
dently one  of  those  mysterious  cases  of  spiritual  disease 
which  completely  baffle  our  reason.  Although  compelled 
to  accept  her  statement,  I  felt  incapable  of  suggesting  any 
remedy.  I  could  only  hope  that  the  abnormal  condition 
into  which  she  had  fallen  might  speedily  wear  out  her  vital 
energies,  already  seriously  shattered.  She  informed  me, 
further,  that  each  attack  was  succeeded  by  great  exhaus- 
tion, and  that  she  felt  herself  growing  feebler,  from  year 
to  year.  The  immediate  result,  I  suspected,'  was  a  disease 
of  the  heart,  which  might  give  her  the  blessing  of  death 
sooner  than  she  hoped.  Before  taking  leave  of  her,  I  suc- 
ceeded in  procuring  from  her  a  promise  that  she  would 
write  .to  Eber  Nicholson,  giving  him  that  free  forgiveness 
which  would  at  least  ease  his  conscience,  and  make  his  bur- 
den somewhat  lighter  to  bear.   Then,  feeling  that  it  was  not 


THB  HAUNTED  SHANTY.  507 

in  my  power  to  do  more,  I  rose  to  depart.  Taking  her 
hand,  which  lay  cold  and  passive  in  mine, — so  much  like  a 
dead  hand  that  it  required  a  strong  effort  in  me  to  repress 
a  nervous  shudder, — I  said,  "  Farewell,  Rachel  Emmons, 
and  remember  that  they  who  seek  peace  in  the  right  spirit 
will  always  find  it  at  last." 

"  It  won't  be  many  years  before  I  find  it,"  she  replied, 
calmly ;  and  the  weird,  supernatural  light  of  her  eyes  shone 
upon  me  for  the  last  time. 

I  reached  New  York  in  due  time,  and  did  not  fail,  sitting 
around  the  broiled  oysters  and  celery,  with  my  partners,  to 
repeat  the  story  of  the  Haunted  Shanty.  I  knew,  before- 
hand, how  they  would  receive  it ;  but  the  circumstances 
had  taken  such  hold  of  my  mind, — so  burned  me,  like  a 
boy's  money,  to  keep  buttoned  up  in  the  pocket, — that  I 
could  no  more  help  telling  the  tale  than  the  man  I  remem- 
ber reading  about,  a  great  while  ago,  in  a  poem  called 
"  The  Ancient  Mariner,"  Beeson,  who,  I  suspect,  don't 
believe  much  of  anything,  is  always  apt  to  carry  his  rail- 
lery too  far ;  and  thenceforth,  whenever  the  drum  of  a  tar- 
get-company, marching  down  Broadway,  passed  the  head 
of  our  street,  he  would  whisper  to  me,  "  There  comes  Ra- 
chel Emmons !''  until  I  finally  became  angry,  and  insisted 
that  the  subject  should  never  again  be  mentioned. 

But  I  none  the  less  recalled  it  to  my  mind,  from  time  to 
time,  with  a  singular  interest.  It  was  the  one  supernatural, 
or,  at  least,  inexplicable  experience  of  my  life,  and  I  con- 
tinued to  feel  a  profound  curiosity  with  regard  to  the  two 
principal  characters.  My  slight  endeavor  to  assist  them  by 
such  counsel  as  had  suggested  itself  to  me  was  actuated  by 


508  AT    HOME    A^D   ABROAD. 

the  purest  human  sympathy,  and  upon  further  reflection  I 
could  discover  no  other  means  of  help.  A  spiritual  disease 
could  be  cured  only  by  spiritual  medicine, — unless,  indeed, 
the  secret  of  Rachel  Emmons's  mysterious  condition  lay  in 
some  permanent  dislocation  of  the  relation  between  soul  and 
body,  which  could  terminate  only  with  their  final  separation. 

With  the  extension  of  our  business,  and  the  increasing 
calls  upon  my  time  dui'ing  my  Western  journeys,  it  was 
three  years  before  I  again  found  myself  in  Toledo,  with 
sufficient  leisure  to  repeat  my  visit.  I  had  some  difficulty  in 
finding  the  little  frame  house  ;  for,  although  it  was  unalter- 
ed in  every  respect,  a  number  of  stately  brick  "  villas"  had 
sprung  up  around  it  and  quite  disguised  the  locality.  The 
door  was  opened  by  the  same  little  black-eyed  woman,  with 
the  addition  of  four  artificial  teeth,  which  were  altogether 
too  large  and  loose.  They  were  attached  by  plated  hooks 
to  her  eye-teeth,  and  moved  up  and  down  when  she  spoke. 

"  Is  Rachel  Emmons  at  home  ?"  I  asked. 

The  woman  stared  at  me  in  evident  surprise. 

"She's  dead,"  said  she,  at  last,  and  then  added, — "let's 
see, — a'n't  you  the  gentleman  that  called  here,  some  three 
or  four  years  ago  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  entering  the  room ;  "  I  should  like  to  hear 
about  her  death.'' 

"  Well, — Hwas  rather  queer.  She  was  failin'  when  you 
was  here.  After  that  she  got  softer  and  weaker-like,  an' 
didn't  have  her  deathlike  wearin'  sleeps  so  often,  but  she 
went  just  as  fast  for  all  that.  The  doctor  said  'twas  heart- 
disease,  and  the  nerves  was  gone,  too ;  so  he  only  giv'  her 
morphy,  and  sometimes   pills,  but   he  knowed    she'd   no 


THE    nATTNTED    SHANTY.  509 

chance  fi-om  the  first.  'Twas  a  year  ago  last  May  when 
she  died.  She'd  been  confined  to  her  bed  about  a  "vveek, 
but  I'd  no  thought  of  her  goin'  so  soon.  I  was  settin'  up 
with  her,  and  'twas  a  little  past  midnight,  maybe.  She'd 
been  layin'  like  dead  awhile,  an'  I  was  thinkin'  I  could 
snatch  a  nap  before  she  woke.  All 't  onst  she  riz  right  up 
in  bed,  with  her  eyes  wide  open,  an'  her  face  lookin'  real 
happy,  an'  called  oxit,  loud  and  strong, — 'Farewell,  Eber 
Nicholson  !  farewell !  I've  come  for  the  last  time !  There's 
peace  for  me  in  heaven,  an'  peace  for  you  on  earth 
Farewell!  farewell !'  Then. she  dropped  back  on  the  piller, 
stone-dead.  She'd  expected  it,  't  seems,  and  got  the  doc- 
tor to  write  her  will.  She  lefl  me  this  house  and  lot, — I'm 
her  second  cousin  on  the  mother's  side, — but  all  her  money  in 
the  Savin's  Bank,  six  hundred  and  seventy-nine  dollars  and  a 
half,  to  Eber  Nicholson.  The  doctor  writ  out  to  Illinois,  an' 
found  he'd  gone  to  Kansas,  a  year  before.  So  the  money's 
in  bank  yit ;  but  I  s'pose  he'll  git  it,  some  time  or  other." 

As  I  returned  to  the  hotel,  conscious  of  a  melancholy 
pleasure  at  the  news  of  her  death,  I  could  not  help  wonder- 
ing,— "  Did  he  hear  that  last  farewell,  far  away  in  his  Kan- 
sas cabin  ?  Did  he  hear  it,  and  fall  asleep  with  thanksgiv- 
ing in  his  heart,  and  arise  in  the  morning  to  a  liberated, 
life  ?"  I  have  never  visited  Kansas,  nor  have  I  ever  heard 
from  him  since ;  but  I  know  that  the  living  ghost  which 
haunted  him  is  laid  for  ever. 

Reader,  you  will  not  believe  my  story  ;  but  it  is  teub. 

THE  KND. 


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